How We Operate
by fantasticbs
Summary: Pre-Regionals, the New Directions are faced with the daunting task of defeating the Troubletones. Scheming ensues. Quinntana I realize that I should probably state that I take and leave parts of the show as I please. If I don't mention it, it didn't happen in my version of things. :)
1. Chapter 1

New Directions was at a breaking point. If they didn't do something to stop the Troubletones, they were sure they'd lose Sectionals. After brainstorming several flawed ideas involving water balloons and hair dye, Finn's eyes lit up as he strode to the front of the group expecting attention.

"We all know Mercedes is great, but the thing that sets the Troubletones apart is Santana. She has the attitude, she can dance and her voice is unique. With her as their front woman and Brittany's choreography they're impossible to beat. Now that they're a couple, like officially, it's like, like..." Finn struggles to articulate their advantage. "...being together, it makes them even better than they were before."

"Synergy - a mutually advantageous combination that produces a greater result than that of a single source." Rachel offers and Finn looks bewildered, but nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, syn, syn..energy. But if we were to separate them somehow..." Finn looks around, gauging the desperation in his teammate's eyes; using it to fuel his next statement. "We...we have to break them up. It's the only way to stop the Troubletones."

Kurt immediately opposes the idea, looking at Blaine lovingly, "No win is worth breaking up a relationship and besides, we couldn't break them up if we wanted to- Brittany hangs on Santana's every word and Santana is completely devoted."

Rachel cuts in here, her suspension from participation looming over the competition. "Brittany's been with lots of guys _and_ girls, but outside of the jocks, that we know she wasn't truly interested in now, Santana's _only_ been with Brittany." Rachel glances at Quinn suspiciously, causing a patented glare in return. Rachel shies away from the former cheerleader's gaze, looking back to the group with her point. "She _has_ to be curious about other girls."

"I don't know guys, this just doesn't seem right..." Blaine interjects.

Finn steps toward the group to regain control, "Blaine, you have another year to win, but we're seniors, this is our last chance!" Realizing he sounds like a dictator, Finn softens his tone. "If we win, we can take all the Troubletones back, but if they win, there's no way Mercedes or Santana will let us on board. I know it's wrong, but we have to do this."

Tina pipes in. "First things first, we don't even have anyone to tempt Santana. Brittany is one of the hottest girls in the school. Who could we get to break them up?"

Finn hadn't thought the plan through that far. He squints his eyes in thought, as does the rest of the group. But one by one their eyes start to glance up and each time they do, Quinn feels more and more uncomfortable. When Finn starts to grin with confidence, she begins her retreat.

"Oh, no, no way! I wouldn't even know..." Quinn's voice rises in pitch beseechingly.

"You _are_ the hottest girl in school." Finn states and Rachel looks at him hurt, but then sets her eyes on Quinn with determination, before adding in a tone of false carelessness, "Even hotter than Brittany."

Then a cacophony of agreements hit, from Artie, "She used to look at you sometimes..." and Kurt, "I have to admit, my gaydar did ping when you two were at the car wash..." Rachel piping in, loud as usual, "Everyone knows you wrote that Glist, so technically, you picked Santana as the hottest…." and even Mike, "...during that performance of Do You Wanna Touch, you didn't seem uninterested. I can't say I blame you. Ow!" Tina punches Mike in the arm ending the barrage of consensus.

"What? No! No to all of that. Santana and I were just close because of Cheerios and, and, she's entertaining why wouldn't I watch her..." Realizing this isn't persuading anyone to her side as they continue to stare at her like she's the second coming, Quinn switches tactics. "I had a baby, I'm surely not the hottest girl and besides Santana would never go for me." That last bit comes out with an edge of disappointment Quinn is surprised to hear in her own voice.

Rachel's eyes flicker with knowledge, while Finn continues to plead, "Quinn, we're desperate. And they're right, you and Santana do have some sort of...connection."

"_Connection_?" Her voice is so high, she's sure dogs are barking a neighborhood away. "How many times do I have to say it, we're _friends!_ Santana and I _are_ friends. Nothing more!"

Puck winks at Quinn, "Hey, I believe you, babe. Once you've been with the Puck-asaurus, no one else will do!"

Kurt groans in frustration. "Ughhhh, first of all Santana was with you, Puck, and I think it's fair to say _anyone_ else will do!" Puck pouts, while Kurt turns his attention to the overwhelmed blonde. "Quinn, I hate to say it, but Finn's right. You need this for your college portfolio as much as the rest of us do. Plus, it will all be fine when we get them back with New Directions for Nationals. They'll never know and everyone will get what they want. Brittany will forgive Santana anything, even a fling with you." The fact that Kurt has clearly been convinced makes Quinn waver.

Looking down to consider what was said, Quinn can feel her resolve breaking. She's secretly considering Yale and she has to admit that her stellar grades alone won't get her in. She does need this win as much as the rest of them. And she really does miss the group being all together. It'd only be a few weeks and then everything could get back to normal. She sighs loudly before raising her eyes to the waiting group. "So, you want me to seduce Santana away from Brittany?"

Finn finally looks shy for asking this of his ex-girlfriend. "Basically, yeah, we just need them to be out of sync. If Brittany is jealous she won't be much help and Santana only feels guilty about stuff she does to Brittany, so she'll be off her game too. It's just until Sectionals are over."

Chewing briefly on the inside of her cheek, she stops, and barely breathes her assent. "Fine. But I can't promise you it will work. I don't think I'm her type."

The group glances at each other excitedly and Quinn feels a weight of responsibility fall on her shoulders. They really think she can do this.

Finn walks up and pats her on the back roughly. Her body lurches forward with each hit, limp with worry. "Oh, it will work!"

Quinn is tossing and turning in her bed that night, her brain refusing to shut down. She doesn't even know how to seduce someone, much less one of her best friends. And Santana's in love with Brittany. This can't possibly go well. She tries to focus on why she's doing this: for Yale; for New Directions; to bring Glee Club back together...but something nags at her. Something deep down and buried. Finn's voice reverberates in her mind, "..._you and Santana do have some sort of ...connection._" She rams her face into her mattress and crushes a pillow to the back of her head as though she can block out a voice that is coming from within.

The next morning, Quinn awakes with a bizarre and unfounded confidence. She's not sure where it came from, but she needs it. She can't fail at this too. She strengthens her conviction in the knowledge that Santana would do the same to her if their roles were reversed - it's how they operate.

Barely an hour later she's gliding through the halls in one of her more revealing dresses. She isn't completely unaware of what Santana likes and the dip showing a shadow of cleavage shouldn't harm her endeavor. She spots her prey looking in her locker mirror, Cheerios uniform fitting snugly.

She hesitates just for a moment before striding forward to lean against the lockers beside Santana. "Hey, S."

Santana looks over unperturbed. Though she wages war with New Directions as a group, her relationships with everyone except Finn and Rachel are still intact. "Hey, Q, what's up?"

"Nothing much. How is Cheerios going? You look...good." Quinn coughs awkwardly, while Santana's eyebrows knit in confusion before relaxing to answer. "Uh, thanks..." She eyes Quinn up and down quickly, but stalls out at her chest just long enough for Quinn to know that her dress is doing its work. "….you too…" Santana blinks twice to regain her focus on her old friend's eyes. "Sue wants me to ride a Siberian Tiger through a fiery hoop at Nationals, so we've been working with Siegfried from that Vegas show. Sue knows him from her showgirl days in the 70s." Both girls scrunch their noses at the involuntary image of Sue Sylvester in a sequined unitard that flashes in their minds. "It's actually a lot of fun except when it shits everywhere."

Quinn's eyebrows furrow with worry at Coach Sylvester's latest crazy idea. She was on the squad long enough not to question how it is that Sue is able to have a wild, ferocious animal on campus with students. "You realize his partner was mauled by tigers, right, Santana? Siegfried _and_ Roy?"

"Yeah, but Brittany has been feeding it bologna so it will like us." Santana states this with the hint of a smile. Quinn bristles at Santana's characteristic willingness to go along with dumb ideas if they are Brittany's. It's like she enjoys that they don't make sense, which bothers Quinn in a way that she can't put her finger on.

"S, the only thing that accomplishes is associating you and Britt with food. What happens if you run out of bologna?" She sounds as frustrated as she feels and immediately regrets it.

"Whatever, Q! You quit Cheerios anyway, why do you even care what we're doing?" Santana's defenses have gone up quickly with the intrusion of reality and logic.

Quinn knows she has gone way off-track from her objectives and she needs to reel it in. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I just worry about the things Sue has you guys doing. You and I both know safety isn't her number one priority."

Santana's eyes accept the apology, so Quinn moves on. "Listen, I was asking because I miss you. Last year we had Glee and Cheerios and now I barely see you. I was thinking we could go to dinner or something at Breadstix...to catch up? Maybe tonight if you're not busy?"

Santana is rifling through her locker looking for something, sighing with the effort. "Brittany is filming an episode of Fondue for Two with Sugar so tonight isn't good..." the Cheerio muses, clearly trying to think of an alternative night.

"Oh, uh, I meant just, I was thinking... I meant just you and me." Quinn can't believe this stuttering fit she's having. Her empathy for Tina just increased ten-fold.

Santana stops searching and attempts to look Quinn in the eye, but the blonde is looking away embarrassed.

"Okay...just you and me then." It's offered with just a hint of curiosity.

Quinn looks up a little shocked at what seems to be a lapse in Santana's usual killer instinct, but the Captain is back in her locker, finally locating the lost item - lip gloss. She applies it smoothly to her lips, distracting Quinn for a second.

"Is 7 okay? I can pick you up." At least she didn't stutter.

Santana fixes her pony tail in the mirror, before turning back to Quinn. "Sure, 7's good."

Santana shuts her locker and heads down the hall. Quinn watches the swish of her skirt for a moment before turning to head to her World History class. She grins uncontrollably all the way to her desk even though her emotions are all over the place as her mind races: _Why didn't she make a joke at my expense? Why didn't she insist that she come with Brittany another night? Why did it feel like I was really asking her out? ….that lip gloss…._

Not liking this train of thought, Quinn tries to listen to the teacher drone on about the Mongolians for the third day in a row.

She feels eyes on her and glances over to see Rachel, attention unusually away from the speaker. Caught, Rachel does an about-face, but not before Quinn sees that familiar flicker.


	2. Chapter 2

Quinn's palms are sweaty and it feels like her heart is pounding out electric currents as she drives to Santana's. Pulling into the driveway, she fixes her hair again in the rearview mirror only to find Santana glancing through the windshield as she approaches the car. She's wearing jeans and a v-neck sweater, unusually casual for Santana. Quinn feels a little overdressed.

Santana slides into the passenger seat and buckles up silently. Again, Quinn wonders why she isn't the recipient of at least a little teasing. She definitely saw her primping in the mirror.

Quinn mumbles out a greeting before turning up the radio, some soft song is playing and the two ride contentedly, Santana humming along with the tune. Thankfully, Breadstix isn't far and they arrive just as the lack of small talk becomes awkward.

The host eyes Quinn a little oddly when seating them in the back and it occurs to Quinn that the staff are probably used to seeing Santana with Brittany. After the commercial. the whole town looks at her a second longer anywhere she goes. Santana is used to being looked at to some degree, but this is different.

The Breadstix staff seems approving at least, and given her frequent patronage, fairly uninterested.

Before the host can leave, Santana raises two fingers. "I'll have an iced tea, unsweetened with lemon."

Quinn giggles to herself. "You know you're not supposed to order with the host, right?"

Santana gives her the wtf-do-I-care look. "I bankroll this restaurant. I gets what I wants when I wants it!"

Quinn shakes her head bemused. Their waitress arrives with Santana's tea, a basket of breadsticks and menus, which Santana declines with an open hand. "I'll have the Greek Salad and the Chicken Parmesan. She'll have the Cobb Salad and a cup of French Onion soup. Oh, and keep the breadsticks coming."

The waitress walks away without a glance to Quinn, who stares at Santana, mouth agape.

"What?" Santana looks at Quinn without a trace of shame, a breadstick snapping in her mouth.

"Um, I can speak for myself. You just ordered for me!" Quinn is pleased that she sounded like herself for once.

"Yeah, I did. Look, you have to get your order in before the dinner rush hits. Were you going to order something different anyway?" Santana is confident in her question.

Quinn hates that she's right. It's in her nature to order the same things habitually. She's a little surprised Santana remembers though. She can't recall the last time they came here together.

Before she can come up with a rebuttal, Santana answers her own question. "Exactly! You haven't changed since the 9th grade. A Fabray, through and through."

Quinn doesn't like the implication that she's boring, much less that it's a hereditary trait, but decides to change the subject. If she's learned one thing about their relationship, it's that they can easily slide into a fight over nothing.

"Whatever. How was practice today?"

"Chill. Sitarra - that's the tiger's name. She was afraid of the fire so Sue spent most of the practice yelling at Siegfried while we ran laps." Santana's eyes light up. "You should see Brittany with her though. Sitarra really seems to relate to Britt. Like beyond the feeding aspect. And Britt is so unafraid; she just thinks Sitarra's a big Lord Tubbington. I think B would have slept by her cage if Sugar hadn't come to get her."

Quinn can easily imagine her old teammate cuddling the giant cat. "Britt does have a way with animals, but I can't help but worry for you both."

"Well, it was tigers or a shark tank, so I'm feeling like we got the better of the two." Santana shrugs. "Coach wouldn't listen to me if I said no anyway."

"What do you mean? You're Captain! She needs you just as much as you need her." Quinn is a little exasperated by Santana's defeated tone.

"It was different when you were with me. She couldn't say no to us both, but my back-ups are Brittany and Becky now. Becky might as well wear a track suit and Britt...well..."

It's rare that Santana ever says a word against her now girlfriend and this instance is no different as she falls short of saying what they both know; that Britt is loyal but she gets easily confused and sometimes does the exact opposite of what Santana needs. Quinn briefly considers using Brittany's weakness to her advantage, but knows Santana would defend her to eternity. Instead she decides to take the high road with a gentle smile.

"If it's any consolation, I miss it sometimes."

"Honestly, Q... it's not. I really wish you would just rejoin already." Santana's tone and averted eyes reveal a disappointment Quinn never thought she'd see in Santana when she'd finally reached the pinnacle of Cheerio-dom. Their summer plea for her to rejoin the Unholy Trinity had appeared to be just an attempt to stop her self-destructive cycle, but now it seems like it meant more, at least to Santana.

"_What_? Why? I thought you'd be excited to finally have the squad all to yourself. None of those girls is close to challenging you."

"Therein lies the problem, Fabray! I mean, sure, I'm the best cheerleader in the nation, but a whole squad wins the championship, not one amazingly talented, beautiful and charismatic Captain. Sue doesn't think we can win without you, so she's come up with all these crazy gimmicks."

It suddenly clicks; that's why Santana's been so nice. She has her own angle; to get Quinn back on the Cheerios. Quinn is shocked to say the least.

Santana continues with more intensity, amping herself up.

"Don't you remember? It was supposed to be us, on top, together. We said it Freshman year and now here I am riding tigers, with Becky almost setting my hair on fire and a girlfriend who tells coach that I can do whatever it takes, when I need her to say that wild animals aren't necessary, that I'm good enough on my own!" Santana spits it out like a machine gun.

Quinn pauses, taking in everything that was said and pointedly avoiding Santana's remarks about her innocently unsupportive girlfriend before responding. "I hate to admit this, really, you have no idea how much I do, but you were always better than me, Santana. And coach would want tigers if I was there or not. Why don't you just tell her what you want to do?"

"Quinn, you know it doesn't work that way, and besides, she's probably right. It's not the same without you. When we were together it was different….we have like..."

Quinn hears it in her head before Santana can say it.

"...a connection. You always knew how to motivate them and I kept them in line. We were a great team."

Quinn is so uncomfortable with the tangible reality that Santana sees this "connection" too, that she loses focus and Santana closes in.

"You said you missed it. We're here because you miss _me_. Please,..._ugh_, that hurt to say... just come back, Q?"

Quinn is ready to decline the request on instinct even with Santana's rare enunciation of the word, 'please', but before she can speak, the waitress arrives with their food.

"Alright, Greek Salad and Chicken Parmesan...and Cobb Salad with French Onion. Can I get you ladies anything else?"

Santana stares at Quinn, waiting for an answer as Quinn looks up politely to the waitress. "No, thank you."

"So?" Santana continues staring at her as if the food doesn't exist, as if nothing else exists. Quinn knows that this is what it's going to take.

"I want Co-Captain and I'm not taking any of Sylvester's hazing for returning mid-season. I will never be at the bottom of a pyramid again." Quinn says definitively.

In all of her years knowing the girl, Quinn has never seen Santana so excited. She jumps up, shaking all the plates on the table as she bounds around the booth to attack Quinn in her seat, hugging and squeezing her with all her strength. Quinn feels winded by the intensity.

"Woah, woah, geez, Lopez, you act like I just saved your life?"

Santana pulls back to look at her, stone faced, "Q, I'm riding a tiger on a daily basis right now. It's not an act."

They laugh together as Santana finally returns to her side of the booth and begins eating with a grin plastered to her face. Quinn can't believe something she's done has made Santana this happy. It stirs something in her.

Most of the rest of dinner is filled with Santana talking at breakneck speed about the new girls on the squad and what Quinn will need to do to help her with each, followed by strategic ideas around the routine they should present to Coach to get rid of the tiger. Santana thinks the fiery hoops could still come in handy and Quinn listens with few comments, mostly enjoying the idea of being with Santana again like this.

"...the St. Johns team is going to be so pissed when they see you're back! That bitch, Chrissy Tompkins, you remember her from Nationals last year? Looked kinda like a broke-down Ashlee Simpson? Anyway, they got "Most Spirited", which we all know means "Most Kiss-Ass" at the Invitational last weekend and you should have seen this chick running her mouth like they had us on lock for Regionals! If Britt wasn't there to stop me, I really don't know, Q, I really don't know."

Quinn takes the opportunity to get back to _her_ angle.

"How are things going with you and Britt? Are you enjoying being First Lady of McKinley High?"

"It has its perks….." Santana laughs to herself before answering the real question. "…uhh, yeah, things are good."

Quinn chuckles to herself at the lack of enthusiasm, hoping it means something. "That's it? Good?"

Santana shifts uncomfortably. "I mean it's what I've always wanted, even though I didn't want it to happen this way." She pauses, then continues evenly. "Finn's a dick."

Quinn laughs, "I'm glad we could rally around you, but I'm sure a political ad campaign wasn't exactly how you saw yourself coming out. I think Finn may be starting to realize that as well. Apparently, he's been in three locker room fights since the ad aired." Quinn realizes what that implies and quiets. Santana runs her tongue along her teeth under her upper lip and glances away before returning her gaze.

Her voice is soft. "What were they saying about me?"

Quinn knows she stepped directly in it and she wishes she could lie and say she doesn't know what they said, but Santana knows as well as anyone about Finn's diarrhea of the mouth. It doesn't allow him to omit details from stories, ever. "You know how guys are, S. They're just jealous of Brittany."

Santana blinks in a way that softly demands her to go on and Quinn has no choice. "Tucker said it just takes the right man, him. Stevedorf said he's been studying lesbian porn so he'll know how to please you. Simmons said he'll never give up. He's been wanting to..." Quinn blanches. "…he's been wanting to tap that ass since the 7th grade." Quinn bites her lip nervously upon finishing. She was supposed to be seducing the girl, not detailing potential sexual harassment cases.

Santana looks down again, shaking her head, before returning her gaze to meet Quinn's. There are tears pooling in her lower lids, but she laughs. It's a pained laugh and it makes Quinn's heart squeeze. "Lesbian porn is terrible..." She mutters looking away again, clearly struggling not to cry. Quinn reaches across the table to grab her hand.

Santana looks down at the touch, then up at Quinn, before she grasps Quinn's fingers more tightly, the tears finally overwhelming her eye lids in two fast streaks.

"I just, I didn't want it to be like this, you know...my grandmother won't speak to me. I've got guys hitting on me all day, staring in class...touching me in the halls like it's an accident...and Britt, she's supportive, like she loves me..." Santana struggles to find the words, "...but I know, I know she's not _in_ love with me. She wants to be, but she's not. So why am I dealing with all this, huh? What's the point?"

"S, you can't think like that. Things will get better, you just have to give it time." Santana looks at her like she wants to believe her, like she needs to believe her.

The waitress walks up to the table and Santana quickly pulls her hand away, wiping at her cheeks. All the emotion on display a few moments ago pushed back inside. Quinn retracts her hand more slowly as the woman starts carrying away their half full plates. Santana pretends to be transfixed by her nails suddenly and Quinn wishes she could get inside that head even for a minute. The waitress starts to walk away before glancing back with a smile. "I'll put in the order for your sundae, two spoons!"

Santana isn't fast enough to stop the waitress. Quinn blushes at the mistake.

"Sorry about that. She, um...I think she thinks that we're...huh, hmmmm...that we're on a date." Santana looks intensely embarrassed.

Quinn can't help but smile at the unusual shyness of her friend. "Well, you did order for me..." Quinn's tone is playful. She is, after all, implying that Santana is cheating on her girlfriend, but there is a note of flirtation that can't be missed.

"Have you been waiting to tap _that_ ass since the 7th grade too, Q?" Quinn's grateful that Santana is playing along.

"More like 9th, but that's still a long time for a girl to wait." Quinn isn't sure if that's taking it too far, but there's only two weeks until Sectionals. She has to push past her comfort zone.

Santana smirks, then sucks her bottom lip into her mouth before releasing it, squinting her eyes mischievously. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Q."

Quinn holds the brunette's gaze and the air between them thickens. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked it, S."

The bowl hits the table with a clack snapping them both out of dangerous territory. "Fudge, caramel and sprinkles, no cherries." The waitress recites the order, gathering that she's interrupted something.

Quinn's eyes flutter away from Santana and up to the waitress. "Thank you, this looks delicious." The waitress nods with a smile before quickly moving on.

Santana hands Quinn her spoon and their hands graze, causing Santana to shiver and then immediately stand up, ramming the table top with her knees. "I, uh, I need to use the restroom. Just, you can get started without me." Santana walks away quickly and Quinn's eyes follow her, taking in the nervous energy pouring off of the girl. It would be a lie to say she isn't nervous too, but thankfully there's a sundae just waiting to take on all of her anxiety.

Quinn dips her spoon into the ice cream, trying to get a little of each of the toppings. She won't be able to have too much of it if she's going to be back in a Cheerios uniform tomorrow. Taking a bite, she's amazed at how something so simple could taste so good and her spoon immediately digs back in.

Santana returns to the table as she lifts her fourth spoonful and she tries to quickly wipe at the fudge that she can feel in the corner of her mouth.

"What the hell, Lucy Caboosey? I said start without me, not finish!"

"Shut up!" Quinn exclaims. "I can't help it, this..." Quinn tries to talk around the ice cream. "...this is really good! Have some." Quinn points a loaded spoon in Santana's direction.

Quinn can see the gears turning in her friend's eyes - she has a perfectly good spoon of her own, one Quinn hasn't been using, one not held by Quinn's outstretched hand, nor attached to a smirk shaded by heavy lashes. Santana's eyes flicker between the spoon and Quinn before she leans forward and takes it into her mouth.

"Sooooo goooooood, right?" Quinn is beaming as Santana swirls the ice cream in her mouth nodding and humming her approval. A shimmer of caramel glistens on her lips and Quinn's eyes linger there, like they did with the lip gloss earlier. Santana rolls her lips inward to suck off the sauce, but a line remains along her upper lip.

And it's like Quinn has no control over her body as she sees her hand reach across the table to wipe away the caramel. It isn't until the moment that Santana's brown eyes, staring at her in wonder, darken to black that she realizes that she brought the dessert back to her own lips.

Santana runs her tongue over her top lip as if to stop Quinn from making a return approach. "Q, what are you doing?"

_I don't know! That wasn't part of the plan! _Quinn is thanking her mother silently for passing along another Fabray trait; That of looking completely calm and collected when you are, in fact, terrified. _What do I say?_

"It's not my fault you can't keep food in your mouth." Quinn plunges her spoon back into the bowl, focusing on the action so as to avoid seeing Santana's eyes search the air in front of her for how to take what just happened; what's been happening all night.

"'This sundae is so good!"

Just as Santana seems ready to argue with Quinn, she plays her trump card, "Grab your spoon, Co-Captain, if I eat anymore of this, there's no way Coach will take me back on the team."

When she looks up, she sees the acquiescence. Santana understands what was just said - it's how they operate. She'll drop it...for now.


	3. Chapter 3

They split the check and hop back into Quinn's car, Santana with a to-go bag. Apparently they know her well enough not to ask if she wants her leftovers. The ride home is uneventful as Santana brings the conversation back to the Cheerios, opening the door the moment they arrive to her house. Climbing out Santana offers an over the shoulder, "Later".

Quinn sits for a moment watching her walk to the door. _This_ _is going nowhere. She's clearly not interested._ Quinn thinks back to the caramel. _I'm just getting too wrapped up in acting like I like her. I don't like her. I have to do these things if we're going to beat the Troubletones. I wouldn't do them otherwise, never. I don't like her. _

Santana looks from the open doorway with a quirked, curious eyebrow at her extended idling. _Even making that face, she's beautiful._ _I don't like her._

Having been summoned by Becky the moment she stepped into McKinley, Quinn enters Coach Sylvester's office to find her leaning back in her chair relaxed.

"The South entrance is an unusual one for you, Q. Becky had to run."

"_Excuse me_?" Quinn quirks an eyebrow at the bizarre opener.

"You don't think I'd leave the security of this building up to Principal Figgins and that idiot security guard do you? I installed my own surveillance system years ago to protect the gold bars I have hidden in the walls. Word to the wise, Q, never trust banks! Precious metals are the only safe investment. But that's not what we're here to talk about, now is it?"

"I hope not."

"Santana came in here practically shooting fireworks out of her nannies about one, Quinn Fabray rejoining the squad. _The prodigal mother returns!_ Doesn't quite have the same ring to it…" Sue laughs at her own joke before turning stern. "There's only one problem, Q, I don't want you back on my team. You're a quitter."

Quinn sits and listens to her frequent nemesis' half-hearted attempt to dissuade her from rejoining and it might have worked if she didn't have ulterior motives.

"Oh please! You _need_ me to win Nationals and you know it."

"Actually Q, I've got all the star power I need in Santana Lopez. She knows what it means to be committed to a team and not her catalog. My mom had a skirt just like the one you're wearing back in 1957, by the way, and it was as unattractive then as it is now."

Quinn chooses to ignore the random insult to get to the point. "This is going to take you by surprise, Coach, but I 100% agree. Santana _is_ talented enough to win you Nationals, but the problem is, _she_ doesn't believe she is. I blame you for that. You've never made her feel like anything other than one of your props; a beautiful girl to throw atop the pyramid like any other. Even if you won with this circus sideshow you have planned, all anyone would remember is the tiger, followed closely by the smell of your desperation. They won't remember your cheerleaders, and they definitely won't remember Santana."

Sue grimaces at the truthful rant and Quinn continues.

"And that's why you need me. Not because I'm a great cheerleader, although I am, but because Santana feels more confident with me beside her. That's also why I'm not running extra laps or laboring at the bottom of the pyramid or taking any ridiculous orders from you. I think you'll find this is more than a bargain for a National Title."

Sue looks away, fingers pressed to her lips in irritation and thought, more the former. Quinn knows she's won before Sue even speaks, so she raises the stakes before she's back under her thumb.

"I'm Co-Captain. And the tiger is out."

Sue squints her eyes in anger.

"If you quit again, Fabray, I will personally go to every college you've applied to and pass out fliers detailing your lack of grit and follow-through. Now get out of my office! I don't want to see your perfect blonde pony until 4pm!"

Quinn smiles in triumph rising to leave, but before she can pass through the door, Sue looks over her reading glasses pointedly. "And Q…."

She waits for Quinn to fully turn back around. "I know this isn't your idea. Whatever it is that you want from Santana in return for getting you to rejoin the Cheerios, keep it out of my gym."

Quinn looks her in the eyes and it's that same flicker Rachel is driving her crazy with, that...that ridiculous emotional x-ray vision, like they know what she's thinking…

The Co-Captain walks out quickly, staring ahead as she passes the office blinds.

Quinn gets to World History early for once and she'd love to walk right back out when she sees that Rachel is the only other person in the room.

"Quinn! What a lovely surprise!"

"Hi, Rachel." Quinn takes her seat resignedly.

"I'm actually quite glad we're catching this moment alone. I wanted to tell you that I think it's just wonderful what you're doing for Glee, I kn…."

"_What_? Ruining my best friends' relationship to further our selfish, personal goals? Yeah, I'm a regular saint."

"Don't think of it like that. You're bringing Glee Club back together. Mercedes and Santana belong with us." Rachel maintains her sing song enthusiasm and Quinn can't stand it.

"_Really, Rachel_? You have to admit that they have a point. When were they ever going to get a chance to shine when you're constantly in the spotlight. I don't entirely agree with what I'm doing actually."

"Why are you doing it then?" Rachel's tone is full of self-important loftiness and it annoys Quinn beyond belief. Her irritation is evident in her edgy response.

"_You know why_- because we need this win!"

"Is that the only reason?" All those looks she's been giving Quinn finally have their verbal counterpart.

"What are you trying to say, Rachel? I'm getting tired of your cryptic questions."

"You're right, I'm being vague. Let me be frank then." Rachel pauses for effect. "I don't think you allow yourself to entertain, even in your thoughts, anything that doesn't fit into your perfect idea of yourself. It's amazing you've made so many mistakes, given how narrow and calculated your focus is, really. But maybe that's the problem; maybe you try so hard to hide how you feel from yourself that you forget everyone else can see you struggling. And that's as telling as the thoughts you fight. You heard Glee Club. We've all seen the way you two are together and yet, you seemed surprised, off-put even, at the mere idea that you could be attracted to Santana. Don't you find that odd, Quinn, that everyone saw it but you?"

Quinn remains silent, lifting her eyes to meet Rachel's. The smaller girl has sounded like a know-it-all throughout this speech, but her next words have a soothing tone, even apologetic.

"I think you _are_ attracted to her and I think you always have been."

"Sorry to interrupt your girl-talk ladies! Fabray, when are you going to give me a chance?" A group of rowdy jocks ram through the doorway eyeing Quinn up and down.

The blonde rolls her eyes, but for once she's thankful for their incessant harassment. Students start trickling in behind the jocks and it's clear that this heart to heart is over. Rachel gives her one more meaningful stare before preparing for class to start, but Quinn pretends not to see it.

Quinn hasn't been able to think of anything but what Rachel said the entire afternoon. She went over and over her relationship with Santana, glancing at memories like photographs in a shoebox. _ Was Rachel right? _She couldn't deny any longer that her feelings for the girl as of late had been slightly more than friendly, but had it always been this way? Had those moments of admiration, even envy, been masks for something else?

Either way, she couldn't let this stop her. She had joined the Cheerios to get close to Santana and she was not going to back down now. Yale was on the line. Santana would do the same to her, she was sure of it.

She enters the locker room already dressed and purposefully late. From what Santana says about these girls, the Quinn Fabray legend is still intact and a grand entrance will keep it that way. The laughter and horseplay stop row by row as she walks down the center aisle.

Santana and she had set up their lockers in the back freshman year and as Quinn hits the back wall, a flash of dark hair whips around to reveal sparkling brown eyes. For a second, it's like the first day she met Santana. She had felt so intimidated at the sight of the younger version of her friend, who seemed to _actually_ be everything Quinn was just pretending to be at the time.

She felt intimidated now too, but in a totally different way. As much as the Glee Club believes her to be this Helen of Troy at McKinley, she's still not convinced Santana sees her that way. At dinner, she had seemed uncomfortable when Quinn pushed things too far.

"I knew it had to be you! Those birds don't stop squawking for just anyone." Santana gestures to the rest of the locker room, before embracing Quinn briefly in excitement. There's an air of surprise in her expression.

"I told you I was coming..." Quinn notes, a little disappointed Santana didn't think she would keep her word.

"I know, but Coach never makes it easy. I thought maybe..." Brittany comes bounding around the corner and almost crashes her into the lockers with an intense hug.

"Quiiiiinnnnnnnnn!"

"I missed you too, Britt!" Quinn hugs back as much as she can, before Brittany spins off their hug into a hug with Santana that ends with a deep kiss. Quinn looks down at her feet, a feeling of treachery pressing against her lungs.

Santana breaks it off with a blush in her cheeks and taps Quinn's shoulder to get her attention.

"We better hurry up, Q. Coach won't single you out, but that's never stopped her from making the whole team do Monsters if we're late."

Quinn is introduced to the team without much pomp and circumstance. Sue clearly bites back a few descriptors in announcing Quinn as Co-Captain, bowing her head to hand over the floor. Becky glares at her appointment into already crowded captaincy territory, while Santana could be a model in a tooth paste commercial. Quinn has to actively take her eyes away from the girl to address the group.

"Ladies, maybe you're thinking this isn't fair. That not only am I back mid-season, but that I'm Co-Captain too." A few eyes roll skyward with the pursing of unwise lips. Quinn's hazel orbs bore into them. "Well, that's because you clearly don't know who I am. I'm Quinn Fabray and I only accept perfection. We're going to win the National Championship, ladies. We're going to win because every Cheerio will be perfect. Not trying their best, not giving it their all, definitely not having a good time...Perfection! Am I clear?" The question is sugary sweet, but the look she's giving the group says otherwise. The girls nod with wide eyes and Quinn knows she's still got it. Even Coach has to turn away to hide a proud smile.

Practice is brutal, but Quinn expected nothing less. Santana was right; Sue was going to take out her anger at Quinn on the whole team to camouflage it. She just forgot that Sue didn't need a reason, like being late, to do so.

"Get out of my sight you lazy cockroaches before I ask Siegfried if he needs a snack for Sitarra's long drive back to Vegas! Montgomery, you've certainly got 20 hours worth of fat to chew, lay off the tots! Captains, in my office now!"

The girls all sit as Sue stands over them, leaning on her desk.

"Becky, I already know you're in this for the right reasons, you can go." Becky walks out with a sneer at the remaining Captains, while Sue sits more comfortably on the edge of her desk in front of them.

"I wanted to take this opportunity to address you both. Though I am loath to admit it, Santana was right; you two do work well together."

The girls look to one another in surprise.

"I want to be clear though. I don't care whose boyfriend or girlfriend is stolen, who finds themselves at the top of the Glist, or whether or not you get a solo at your ridiculous singing competitions. Nothing will affect your ability to lead these Cheerios. Am I understood?"

Santana nods a little curiously. Quinn again, has that sinking feeling of being caught, though she nods to cover it up. The feeling is only made worse when they leave the office to find Brittany waiting.

After a reminder to give her a ride home and a peck to Santana's cheek, Brittany runs off to catch the truck departing with Siegfried and Sitarra to say one last goodbye. Santana just shakes her head laughing to herself.

"I almost feel bad breaking them up." Santana says while peeling off her sweat soaked top in the locker room.

Quinn smirks, "She still has Lord Tubbington. He may have a few addictions, but he'd never maul anyone to death...at least, I don't think."

Santana laughs while removing her skirt. "I wouldn't put it past him, fat bastard."

Quinn has seen Santana half-naked hundreds of times, but something about the empty locker room mixed with these new...maybe old feelings for the brunette, and coach's warning, it's all making her feel lost. Her eyes linger on glistening beads of sweat.

"About what Coach said, Q, I think she's right. We wasted a lot of high school mad at each other for stupid reasons...namely Puck. I really want it to work this time and not just because Sue will hire a hit man if it doesn't."

"Me too." It's all she can come up with and she sounds a little dazed.

"You alright, Q? First practice back is a bitch!" Santana takes a step forward to put a reassuring hand on her shoulder and Quinn shudders at the contact.

"I...I'm fine." Quinn turns to her locker to keep her eyes off golden skin. "You made them sound a lot worse than they are, San. I'm not sure you needed me at all."

"If they practiced regularly like they did today, I'd think the same thing, but just you being here lit a fire under their asses." Santana responds, throwing an old sweatshirt on over her head.

It's silent for a minute. Quinn taking in the compliment as she finishes pulling on her warm-up pants.

"Q, about last night...what, uh..." Quinn is dreading her next words, moving the few things she has in her newly reclaimed locker around to seem busy. "...I'm not sure what to think..."

"About what?" She knew the question was coming, but she had spent so much time thinking about the real answer that she hadn't come up with the fake one. She had secretly hoped Santana would ignore her missteps and she could start fresh on this seduction thing tomorrow or the next day.

"Q. Don't bullshit me."

Quinn stops moving her things left and right and turns to face Santana.

"I didn't know I was." Santana rolls her eyes at the response.

"The flirting, the ice cream…" Santana looks down and away momentarily. "...what am I supposed to think?"

"What do you want to think?" Quinn asks. Santana holds her gaze for a moment, dead serious.

"Don't answer a question with a question." It's clear that Santana is tired of Quinn's evasive tactics.

She can't just say what she means though. "You've never thought about it, Santana? You and me."

Santana looks away with a heavy sigh. "Q, I'm gay and I have eyes. Of course I've thought about it, but it doesn't mean a whole hell of a lot when the girl you're thinking about is straight."

"What if I wasn't?" Quinn's asking herself as much as Santana.

"Q, you're a little young to be having a mid-life crisis even if you've had a baby." Santana can't keep an amused smile off her face and Quinn finds herself getting angry. The lines between the act and how she truly feels are blurring before her eyes.

"Don't laugh at me!"

At Quinn's angry response, Santana's demeanor slips quickly into defense mode. "I don't understand you, Q! Is that what this is all about? Dinner? Cheerios? You have an itch you need a feminine hand to scratch and now that I'm the poster child for lesbianism, I'm your choice?"

The truth is somehow worse than what Santana is describing, but Quinn wastes too much time weighing the two against each other in her mind while her Co-Captain watches her.

"You're serious! Shit, Fabray! You're actually serious about this!"

Again, Quinn finds her temper flaring. If she's honest, she's as angry at Santana's incredulous response as she is at herself for not having one. "Why couldn't I be? Why couldn't I be…" Quinn stumbles and it only serves to make her emphasize what she says next. "I'm attracted to you, is that so wrong?"

Santana is taken aback and it's as though she thought this conversation would end with Quinn admitting she was just missing Puckerman or Sam, or one of the other boys in her harem. She seems completely mystified by what has been said and it calms her down somehow.

"Quinn, I'm with Brittany. You know that. You even telling me this is wrong."

The scheme seems far away now even as Santana's words set it into motion.

"What if you weren't?"

It's quiet for a few moments, Santana searching Quinn's eyes for something. Quinn has no idea what. The drip of a far-away shower sounds like a hammer in the silence.

"Santana! I'm ready to go! You in here?" Brittany is yelling from the locker room door and the guilty look Quinn and Santana share makes Quinn feel terrible and excited all at once.

Santana looks away first.

"Be there in a sec, Britt!" Santana shouts swiveling towards the door before looking back to Quinn.

Santana has this confused, angry look on her face. It's that look she gets before she slaps someone and Quinn steels herself against the possibility, almost closing her eyes in anticipation.

It's why she doesn't see Santana step closer, why the words of apology that were about to leave her lips, are instead muffled by the lips of her friend. Santana's thumb and forefinger rise to hold Quinn's chin in place, but the movement is unnecessary. Quinn isn't going anywhere. Soft lips press in a way that feels both urgent and regretful.

When they stop, their eyes meet and it's as though they've drunk a bottle of wine each. Santana backs away slowly, then as though what she has done finally sinks in; she grabs her things and rushes out of the locker room. Quinn stands alone, stricken to the spot.


	4. Chapter 4

After second period Quinn is at her locker when it suddenly slams before her eyes. Santana stands before her, arms crossed.

"Yesterday didn't happen. I'm with Brittany and you're straight. I don't need Sylvester on my ass, so we're going to forget all of this."

Quinn looks down and away, thinking about Santana's demand before she responds, bringing her gaze level with her Co-Captain's.

"While you may not want to deal with what happened yesterday, it happened. I'm not going to pretend it didn't."

"That's cute, Quinn. Really, I'm flattered you think a momentary lapse in my judgment means we should dig deeper and explore our feelings, but I don't. Let me make this easy for you. You're not gay. Glad we figured that out."

Quinn looks around her to make sure the halls are still fairly clear.

"Look, I'm sorry if….if what happened makes you uncomfortable, but you kissed me and…."

Santana surveys the hall as well, before glaring at Quinn and lowering her voice to interrupt her.

"It was a mistake. And as far as I'm concerned, it didn't happen. " Quinn is sure that Santana means for this to come out like a threat, but it sounds like pleading. Quinn takes a deep breath.

"You kissed me…..and I kissed you back."

Santana looks unsure about the admission. It's silent for a moment.

"Whatever. It's done and it's not going to happen again. Coach wants us to get along and we will."

Santana turns and disappears down the hall in seconds.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Quinn walks into Glee and everyone looks her way, a few startled by the familiar Red, White and Black.

After making this plan, shame has settled in on the group and even though her return to the Cheerios is a sure sign that she and Santana are close once more, no one has the heart to inquire further. Well, almost no one.

"So how's it going?"

Quinn shouldn't be surprised that Finn is checking in on his master plan, but something about the way he asks it so casually makes Quinn angry.

"Fine, Finn. It's going fine."

Finn seems discouraged, but it doesn't stop him from continuing to his line of questioning.

"So, is she…you know, is she interested?" He looks left and right conspiratorially which is only amusing because everyone in the room already knows the plan.

Quinn can't keep the boredom from her voice. "She seems interested. Are we done checking in, boss?"

"Hey, I know this isn't easy, Quinn, but it's for the good of the team. You said…."

"I said I would do it and I am, just leave it at that. I'm not giving you status updates, Finn. If it works, you'll know at Sectionals."

Mr. Schue comes in just then, excited about some choreography he found on the internet. Everyone ignores the fact that they have more hope riding on the pretty blonde.

XOXOXOXOXO

By the time Quinn makes it to the locker room, Brittany is the only one still getting ready.

Quinn can't meet her eye with all that she has thought and done the last few days and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"What happened with you and San, yesterday?"

Quinn keeps her face behind her open locker door. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. She came out of the locker room all stormy and when I asked if you two got in a fight she said it was something like that."

Quinn tries to keep it light, continuing to fix her hair in the mirror. "It was nothing. You know me and S can't be in the same room for too long without fighting."

"Yeah, I do. Why do you think that is?" It's more curious than accusatory, but Quinn still struggles to find an acceptable answer.

"Umm…."

"I'm just asking because Becky told me what Coach said to you about leading the team and…" Quinn makes a face like that's impossible. "She listens under the door. Anyway, I know how excited Santana is that you're back, so I just want to make sure you two stop fighting. Why can't you?"

"I don't know, Britt. We just…." Quinn tries to find a common thread. "We always want the same things."

Brittany visibly ponders what Quinn has said, her brow furrowed. Quinn considers making a break for it, quickly closing her locker and picking up her water bottle, but Brittany catches her arm before she can walk away.

"So what was it yesterday, then? That you both wanted?"

For some reason, Quinn can't speak the lie that comes to mind. There's something so sincere about those blue eyes that it feels more wrong than anything she's done yet to lie while looking into them.

"You should talk to Santana."

XOXOXOXOXOXO

Practice is made less awkward because Santana, Becky and Quinn are split up to lead different groups of girls, but Quinn finds herself looking over at her brunette counterpart more than a few times. For her part, Santana seems to be wholly focused on making sure the flyers have their timing just right.

After Coach has them run a few wind sprints, they're released and Quinn sees Brittany take Santana to a corner by the bleachers, a look of concern on her face.

Quinn heads to the lockers with the rest of the girls and changes before striding out to the Senior parking lot. It's dark out and a little chilly, so she scans the almost empty parking lot and pulls her Varsity jacket in tighter. She's almost made it to her car when she hears footsteps quickly approaching. By the time she turns around Santana is completely in her chest, causing her to lean against the curve of her car to create some space.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" Quinn blinks in confusion at the attack. "Why is my girlfriend asking me about what I _want_, Quinn?"

Quinn stands up straight to gain some confidence in what will indeed be another fight. "She asked me about yesterday, what did you want me to say?"

Santana laughs humorlessly. "I don't know, Q. You could've lied! You do it so well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" No one likes to be called a liar, even if it's true.

"It means you lied to everyone for months about the baby, you lied to me about Puckerman, you lie to yourself all the time, why couldn't you tell Britt one little lie? Instead you go on about us _wanting_ the same things and then tell her to _ask me_?"

"I couldn't lie to her." Her voice is weak and Quinn suddenly wonders if there was more to telling Brittany the truth than she had admitted even to herself. _Maybe Rachel was right about me_.

"Why? Because you would feel bad, Saint Fabray? You should!"

Quinn is tired of taking the heat for the both of them. "_You_ kissed _me_, Santana! I didn't force you to do anything."

"Why would you tell me that? You knew that wasn't fair, but you did it anyways."

Quinn can't answer that question, so she ignores it in favor of one of her own.

"Why did you kiss me?"

"Really, Q, _really_? You need an ego stroke, is that what this is? Fine, I kissed you because you're hot, because when I met you I thought you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I kissed you because you're the only girl I've ever wanted that I just _knew_ I couldn't have, and in that moment you were telling me I could. There, are you happy, can you let this drop now?"

It's dark and Quinn can't quite make out Santana's expression, but she's known her long enough to decipher when Santana is afraid and that last question was riddled with fear. Every fiber of Quinn's being wants to press the issue, wants to find out why Santana is so afraid, but it seems like kicking someone while they're down. Santana never wanted to have this conversation. Quinn sighs audibly.

"If that's what you want."

Santana holds her gaze. "It is."

Quinn turns to open her car door, but a hand presses to the window from behind her, keeping it closed. Santana's voice is raspy as it hits her ear.

"Do you even get it? This isn't a game for me, Quinn."

Quinn keeps her eyes forward, overwhelmed by the feeling of Santana so close. The hand not pressed against the door slides around Quinn's waist and holds her that much closer. Quinn can barely breathe.

"I'm risking everything." Santana continues in the absence of a response. She sounds like she wishes she could stop herself. "If it were anyone else…"

Quinn turns, bringing their faces inches apart. "But it's not. It's us." She leans in cautiously, lifting a hand to Santana's neck with intent. The kiss is so much more intimate than their first, their lips meeting and breaking apart slowly, only to return. It's blowing Quinn's mind that she could have been kissing this girl for years.

Santana finally pulls away, taking a step back. "Brittany can't know about this." The betrayal seems to ring in Santana's ears, because she quickly amends her statement. "I'll tell her, but just, not yet. She's so excited about the Troubletones and Nationals. I can't do this to her… not right now."

The mention of the Troubletones immediately brings Quinn back to her senses. She agrees without much enthusiasm. "No, of course not."

Santana seems at a loss for what to do next and she shivers in the cold. "I need to go."

"Oh…okay." The awkward moment they had avoided the last time they kissed now lingers in the air.

"See you later." Santana walks off towards her car a few rows away and Quinn watches her, not quite sure what to think. _Does this mean we're going to continue kissing, but not tell Brittany, or am I supposed to wait, or is she going to yell at me again? _

XOXOXOXOXO

Mercedes is going on and on about Sam at Quinn's locker when she sees Santana coming down the hall with Brittany, their pinkies linked. Mercedes follows Quinn's eyes and she grabs the duo.

"Hey, Ms. Corcoran needs us to meet her in the auditorium during lunch."

"Yay! I've been working on this new dance I want to show her! You start like this…" Brittany's excitement overflows into actually trying to show the girls right then and there.

Quinn looks away, feeling like an outsider with her friends for more than one reason.

"Be careful, Britt, we wouldn't want Quinn to try and steal our routine. God knows what they're going to do to beat us without Berry."

Quinn can't believe she was kissing this girl less than 24 hours ago, but oddly enough Brittany looks the most outraged.

"I told you to stop it. You whine for months about her leaving the Cheerios and now that she's back all you want to do is fight."

Santana's face heats up and her brows furrow. Quinn can't tell if it's because she's being publicly chastised or because Brittany revealed just how bad she's been wanting to get Quinn back.

"It was just a joke." Santana digs up some attitude.

Mercedes interjects. "Brittany's right, San, Quinn would never do that to us." She places her arm around Quinn's neck to emphasize her point.

"Whatever. Clearly no one has a sense of humor. I have to get to class."

"Wait!" Brittany halts Santana's movements like only she can, and the brunette looks back. "Fix it. Give Quinn a hug."

Quinn looks up with alarm, putting out her hands to stifle the idea. "It's ok, Brittany. Santana was just joking. It's alright."

"No, it's not. You two obviously can't figure out how to be friends on your own, so I'm going to help you." Brittany grabs Santana by the elbow. "Now give her a hug."

The frown on Santana's face deepens as she steps forward into Quinn's space for a reluctant hug. Quinn brings her arms up to Santana's back to do the "friend-pat" and Santana does the same.

"Not like that, like you mean it, or I swear, I'll tell Coach." Brittany is surprisingly good at blackmail given her sweet demeanor. Mercedes can be heard chuckling loudly.

Quinn can feel the length of Santana's arms crossing her back as she relaxes into the hug and Quinn can't help but melt into her hold. She dips her face into Santana's neck to avoid looking at Brittany and Santana shudders at the breath on her neck, before breaking them apart.

"Now kiss." Quinn and Santana share a shocked look at the order, while Mercedes is quickly bent over in laughter, getting the joke.

Brittany isn't though, and she looks between the two curiously, giggling lightly to herself. Santana and Quinn shake off their nerves and try to laugh, but it's strained at best.

Quinn coughs out an exit. "...I've got to get to…um, to class."

Mercedes waves her off, still trembling with laughter, while Santana grimaces at her, arms crossed.

Quinn glances back as Brittany pulls at Santana's neck from the side and plants a kiss on her temple, earning her a half-hearted scowl. She's starting to feel hurt by the whole exchange when Santana looks back from between the girls as they traipse down the hall, like she knew that Quinn would be watching.


	5. Chapter 5

"Alright, ladies, out of my sight!"

Hands on her knees, Quinn gasps for air after the twelfth run-through of the full routine. Brittany hops over to her with a light sheen of sweat on her skin, but not a breath out of place. "You're coming with us to Puck's party, right?"

Quinn catches Santana looking up from her similarly hunched form a few feet away. "Yeah, I'll come."

Brittany claps her hands, jumping in place and then races towards the locker rooms. Quinn shakes her head at the girl's unnatural energy levels, still trying to gather the strength to stand up.

Santana walks by, running her fingertips lightly over Quinn's back, but saying nothing.

XOXOXOXOXOXO

As they walk into the party, heads turn like they always have – Santana and Quinn glare; Brittany smiles and waves. They finally make it to the kitchen and Brittany immediately begins making her signature Purple People Eater drinks, which consist of several unknown liquors and grape soda.

Quinn leans her back against the counter next to Santana, grazing her knuckles along a toned thigh as she brings her arms up to bow behind her. She feels Santana scan her for it, but keeps her face forward watching Brittany.

Moments later the blonde turns triumphantly, handing cups to each of them. Quinn smiles gratefully and takes a sip of the harsh, but sweet drink.

They laugh in the kitchen for a while before a song comes on that excites Brittany. She grabs Santana and pulls her into the living room where a sea of varsity jackets fills the floor. They move to the center before Brittany turns and pulls Santana in close. Quinn follows behind them, but stops short, choosing to watch instead.

It doesn't take long for elbows to press against the wood-paneled wall beside her, deep voices whispering in her ear that she's beautiful or some other such come-on , but she shoes them away as quickly as they approach and soon she is left alone. She almost doesn't notice when Rachel moves in beside her, but the girl would be remiss not to announce herself.

"Hi, Quinn."

"Hey, Rachel."

"Are you having a good time?"

Quinn's eyes remain on the dance floor and Rachel follows her line of sight, not surprised by the incoming sarcasm. "A blast."

Rachel fiddles with her cup nervously. "You aren't mad at me are you? About what I said…."

Quinn considers lying to keep Rachel's nose out of her business, but the truth is she doesn't have anyone else to confide in about this and Rachel _was_ right, more right than Quinn could have imagined a week ago.

"No, I'm not mad."

"So, how are things then….with Santana?" Quinn can tell Rachel isn't asking because of Sectionals. For some reason, Rachel has always desperately wanted to be her friend. She watches as Brittany runs a finger down Santana's chest seductively as they dance.

"We've kissed." Quinn's eyes zero in on Santana's lips at the thought.

Rachel can't keep the intrigue from her voice. "Does she…does she feel the same way about you?"

"Nothing is ever clear with Santana, but I think so."

"Well, what are you going to do?" Quinn watches as Santana steps away from Brittany, who is distracted by the other Cheerios, and grabs the railing for the stairs. Puck doesn't let people go upstairs at his parties, but Santana isn't one to follow anyone's rules, especially not Puck's.

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know." She takes a long sip of the purple liquid, feeling it burn well past her throat before abandoning the drink half full. With that Quinn forces a smile and makes her way to the stairs, grabbing the same rail Santana had moments before.

She can hear the faucet running as she approaches and she's relieved to find that Santana hasn't locked the door. She closes it behind herself quickly before lifting her eyes to the girl who has consumed her every thought for days.

For her part, Santana doesn't look up, just continues rinsing the suds from her fingers. "Do you always just walk in on people in the bathroom or should I feel special?"

Quinn switches places with Santana as the brunette moves to use the hand towel by the door. Santana then slides back to inspect her eye lashes in the mirror. "How can I help you?"

"Can you stop pretending you're busy and look at me?"

Santana stops picking at nonexistent mascara clumps and turns with exaggerated annoyance. "You've got my full attention."

"No, I don't. Brittany does." It's a childish response, but she can't help herself.

Santana rolls her eyes and laughs to herself. "Ok, well, she's my girlfriend, Quinn. I'm not sure I can make you feel better about that."

Quinn didn't mind having her irrational feelings dismissed, but laughed at was entirely different. "Can you stop trying to make me feel worse?! You, you…"

"I, what, Quinn?! I have a girlfriend. I don't know what you expect from me."

Quinn doesn't know what she expected either, she only knows what she wants and right now it feels like she can't have it. She moves to push past Santana, but is cut off at the door.

"Un uh, don't come up here to lay a round of guilt on me and then run off, Fabray. What do you want from me?"

Quinn goes to speak, but what is there to say? All her demands sound unreasonable in her head. Everything she wants, impossibly out of her reach. All but one thing.

It's a purposeful kiss, meant to convey all that she cannot say, all that she cannot ask for. Santana quickly loses her surprise and the faded music from downstairs blurs into white noise as their senses focus on touch alone. Quinn can barely hear Santana's murmur of approval to the swipe of her tongue, but the sound, so full of desire has her surging forward. The brunette gasps into her mouth upon being pressed fully into the door. Quinn has never felt the need to possess someone as much as she does right now and her hands quickly move to the back of Santana's dress, pulling the zipper down.

"I need more from you." She clutches at the bare skin she has revealed, running her hands up and down the smooth expanse as if to memorize it, before sliding her hands down under the fabric of her dress to her ass, squeezing and pushing into her simultaneously.

Santana seems stunned by the aggression, pulling away from the kiss for a moment to try to meet Quinn's eyes. "Quinn..." It's said with such uncertainty that Quinn can't tell if she wants her to stop or keep going.

Leaning back in to press her lips against Santana's immediately, Quinn quells whatever Santana might have said next. Pulling her dress forward and off Santana's shoulders, she speaks directly into her lips. "S, please."

Santana , now clad only in a bra from the waist up, feels Quinn's hands cup her breasts roughly. Quinn can feel the peaks of Santana's nipples hardening at her touch and she's never felt so powerful. Santana bites at Quinn's lip in response and Quinn moves her hand down along Santana's hip bones beyond the bunching of her dress to her panty line. It's a bold move and if Quinn were thinking at all, she wouldn't do it, but at this point she's operating on autopilot-taking what she wants.

As Quinn's fingers dip below lace, Santana grabs her wrist to stop the movement, pulling back to look at her with a quirked eye brow. Before she can respond there's a heavy banging on the door and Santana jumps, immediately pulling her dress back up and over her shoulders.

"Who the hell is in there?! No one is allowed upstairs!" Quinn would normally just come out, but she'd rather he didn't know that she was in the bathroom with Santana. She looks to the brunette, who is futilely trying to pull her zipper back up.

The banging starts again and Quinn puts a finger over her lips to silence Santana.

"Sorry, Puck. It's just me."

"_Quinn?!_ Hey, have you seen Santana? Brittany's looking all over for her and I'm tired of telling her that she isn't in the cabinets."

"Uhh, no, no I haven't, but I'll be sure to look for her when I come out."

"_Yeah, I bet you will!_" Puck speaks with that familiar lecherous tone and Santana frowns immediately.

"Whatever. I'll see you in a minute." Quinn dismisses and waits to hear Puck walk away before taking a step toward Santana to help with her zipper, but Santana steps out of reach.

"What the hell did he mean by that?"

"What?" Quinn asks to buy more time.

"Quinn, if you don't stop making me fucking spell everything out for you! _That_! Did you tell Puck?"

"I….no….he, um, he must…"

Santana is shaking her head in anger. "You told him! I should've never done this. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I didn't tell him! He, he must have known."

"Quinn, you've liked me for all of 5 seconds. Puck isn't that perceptive."

"Once, when we were fooling around he asked me which girl I would pick if we had a….a threesome…" Santana looks like she might throw up at the reference. "….and I said that I would pick you. He teases me about it sometimes." It isn't a lie entirely. Puck had asked her once and she had said Santana without hesitation. He never brought it up again, but what was she supposed to say.

Santana turns to the mirror, pressing her palms into the counter so hard her knuckles lose their color. Quinn's eyes land on her still exposed back. "So, Puck knows that you have some sort of fetish crush on me then?"

"_Fetish crush_? What?"

"I don't know. Look, can you zip me up. It sounds like Brittany needs me." Quinn shivers at the icy delivery, stepping behind Santana to grasp the zipper.

She takes her time pulling it up, looking Santana in the eye through the mirror. "You're not a fetish. I…that was a long time ago, Santana." Quinn sweeps long black hair out of the way to pull it up the last few inches.

"From what I can tell, Q, you're still after a fantasy. What exactly did you think you were doing before Puck started banging on the door? Were you really going to fuck me in the bathroom of a house party with my girlfriend downstairs?" With that she brushes past Quinn, pausing at the door. "I guess what's worse is how close I was to letting you.

Quinn makes her way down the steps as Santana is still struggling to get through the packed living room. She notices the new wide receiver focus his attention on Santana as she squeezes through the crowd and his voice is deep enough to be heard over the music.

"You're the lesbian, right?! You're waaaaaaayyyyy too beautiful to be gay." Quinn can see him put a heavy paw on Santana's shoulder as she tries to step back with a scowl, but the crowd is too thick, and if anything she gets pushed further into his body. "These boys just don't know how to treat you. What you need is a man!" With that he pulls Santana in for a kiss, while she attempts to escape pressing her forearms into his chest. It doesn't work and her arms quickly collapse into her own chest, making it so she can't even hit him the way Quinn is sure she would. His lips press against hers sloppily, and cheers overcome the music as his friends fist pump the air and raise their cups.

Quinn is down the stairs and pushing through the crowd in seconds to reach Santana. When she's finally broken through, she grabs his leather coat arm and yanks with all her might, but he's a big boy and he bats her away like a fly, maintaining the kiss.

Rachel comes to help Quinn up, while her clear and sharp voice can be heard yelling for Finn and Puck over the continued cheering.

"What the fuck, Conners!" Finn pulls him off of Santana and the moment he's turned, Puck punches him to the floor. Mike pushes some of the jerks who had been cheering so loudly seconds before, and they raise their hands, palms out, as if to say that they did nothing wrong.

Quinn looks to Santana and quickly finds she's not the only one. Where there was no space before, there is now a clearing and Santana stands alone in it, the whole party staring at her. Her mouth is red from the abusive kiss and there are tears forming fast in her deep brown eyes. She quickly makes a beeline for the door, looking at the floor and letting her hair shade most of her face. Quinn follows close behind.

Once outside, Santana starts walking towards her car. Quinn is scared to interrupt her in this state, but she's definitely not going to let her drive. "S, S, I should drive."

Santana doesn't say anything. She fishes the keys out of her handbag with shaky hands and starts putting them into the keyhole, but they fall with her trembling. The front door opens and Rachel, Mercedes and Tina stand there looking out to offer help, but Quinn waves them away quickly, knowing Santana hates to have people see her like this. She can hear a soft sob as she makes a second attempt even more shakily, the sounds from the party making her think she should hurry. Quinn puts a hand to hers and stops the attempt.

"Let me." Santana releases the keys and walks to the other side of the car. Her hair is still a curtain, shrouding her face.

"Brittany" Santana simply states her name as a reminder that they can't leave without her. Quinn was hoping someone would finally tell Brittany where Santana was, now that her girlfriend had been accosted in front of all of them.

She sends a text to the other blonde, but it's unnecessary as she sees her coming out the front door and jogging to the car. Quinn is surprised when instead of hopping into the back, she opens Santana's door.

"I just heard. I'm so sorry, San." She leans in to hug the distraught girl tightly. She pulls back to look her in the face, just as Puck and Finn are throwing Conners out the front door.

"Don't bother coming to practice, asshole! When Beiste hears about this you're so done!"

They slam the door shut and Quinn wishes they had noticed that she and Santana were still out there.

Conners picks himself up off the ground, a black eye forming and blood coming from his nose and lip. He's so dazed Quinn is surprised he even sees them, but Brittany was still standing outside of the car, watching the commotion.

"Tell your girlfriend it was worth it! She tasted so sweet. I'll see her at school on Monday!"

Brittany just stares at the boy frowning, but Quinn is infuriated. She's leapt from the car and is racing across the grass, before she even knows what she wants to do. Throwing her entire body weight into his center, she tackles him to the ground and quickly sits atop his chest. It doesn't hurt that he was already pretty badly beaten, but he also probably never expected a response from a bunch of girls.

Her fists are raining down on him fast and his single black eye will quickly have a friend. "Get off me, you bitch!" Her legs pin his arms down and it's giving her the advantage, but he's shifting his lower body steadily to try to rock her off of him. She lands a solid hit to his jaw and the pain causes him to finally push hard enough to topple her to the side. When she looks up he's over her with his arm raised to punch her and she closes her eyes to brace herself.

The hit, which she had decided was totally worth receiving, doesn't come though and when she opens her eyes, Santana has the jock in a choke hold from behind. His face is turning red, but Santana isn't letting up. The catatonic girl from before is long gone and Quinn doesn't think she's ever seen Santana so mad.

Sounds from the party echo out and Quinn tilts her head on the grass to see the guys coming out quickly along with the rest of the party to gawk at what has clearly become an HBIC beat down. Puck races to Santana, getting her to let go and the boy slumps to the ground gasping for air.

"Conners, you should've left it alone when we threw you out. These girls will kill you!"

Quinn puts her hands behind her to get up and only now feels the pain from punching into such a thick skull. Santana is beside her to help her get up by her shoulders.

Still gasping on all fours, Conners looks up at the girls. "Oh, I get it! She's _your_ girl! I thought she was the tall one's." Eyes land on Quinn instantaneously, including Brittany's.

"Shit, man! You never know when to shut up!" Puck punches him once more, this time knocking him out cold, a heap on the lawn.

Quinn still hasn't responded to the accusation and her Cheerio-Captain-glare gives the impression that she doesn't plan to. The crowd starts funneling back into the house since the show is definitely over. Quinn thanks all their friends and turns down their offers of assistance. Finn makes some sophomores wait with Conners until he wakes up.

The trio head to the car once more and climb in silently. Quinn starts the car and again notices how swollen her knuckles are as she grips the steering wheel causing her to wince in pain.

"Quinn, are you okay?" Brittany asks from the back seat.

"Yeah, B, I'm alright." She puts the car in gear and pulls out of the drive. It's quiet the whole way to Brittany's house.

"Are you guys still spending the night?" Quinn defers to Santana.

"B, I, uh…..I think I just want to go home tonight." There's a quiver to her voice that's unsettling to both blondes in the car.

"Okay, but you'll call me if you need me?"

"Yeah, B, I'll call you if I need you." With that, the lanky Cheerio climbs out of the back seat and walks toward the house. She pauses and looks back like she forgot to say something, but then continues to the door.

Quinn pulls out again and starts driving towards Santana's house. She's filling the silence with nonsense about bringing Santana's car back to her tomorrow and the logistics of getting a ride back home, but Santana isn't responding, so she quiets. It isn't long before she feels dark eyes staring at her.

"Are you okay, S?" When Quinn turns, the look that's returned is one of complete unfamiliarity, like she has never met her.

"Santana?"

"Why would you do that? He could've really hurt you." Santana sounds irritated, almost angry.

"He was threatening you! Talking about how you taste! _What was I supposed to do?" _Quinn finds herself getting enraged just at the thought of his foul words.

"Survey says 'Drive Away'."

"And have him harassing you on Monday; for the rest of the year?! No, Santana. No!"

"Quinn, you can't protect me. The best thing you can do is walk away from this. You heard that idiot? You looked like my girlfriend back there. Why ruin the last few months of your senior year because you're curious? Just save it for college, like everyone else."

Pulling into Santana's driveway, Quinn squeezes the steering wheel once more, the physical pain matching the feeling in her chest at being brushed aside once more.

"I looked like your girlfriend because that's how I feel, Santana."

Santana chuckles bitterly. "You want to be my girlfriend now? And I thought guys would say anything to get in my pants…."

"This isn't about getting into your pants. Why is that so hard to believe?"

"I don't know, maybe because this time last week you were my straight-as-a-ruler best friend. You're just caught up in the feeling; the excitement of something new. You were ripping off my clothes in the bathroom of a party, Quinn. How am I supposed to feel?"

"I'm sorry… I just…I got caught up in the moment. I had to watch you dance with Brittany all night and I …."

"And that's another thing. I already have a girlfriend."

"You said she wasn't in love with you." Quinn swore she wouldn't use the things Santana had shared in confidence against her, but she couldn't help it. She had to play all her cards.

"And _you_ are? Look, it's been a long night. I just want to go to bed."

Santana reaches for the door, but Quinn hits the lock button causing a glare to be sent her way.

"I just needed to tell you before you go that I'm really sorry about tonight, not just the fight, but what happened in the bathroom too. I never meant to make you feel like…like a fetish. I'm going to prove it to you."

With that she hit unlock and Santana dragged her eyes away to exit the car silently. She turned back after closing the door and Quinn rolled the window down. "Frozen peas." Quinn looked at her curiously and Santana simply nodded towards her hands on the steering wheel.

She rested her hands on the open window sill for a moment before adding with averted eyes, "Thanks for that, even if it was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do."

She turned to walk to the house and Quinn just had to say it. "For you, I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Santana looked back and shook her head with a smirk as she reached the door and let herself in.


	6. Chapter 6

Quinn shifted from foot to foot on the welcome mat, reading and rereading "Bienvenidos" in her head. Finally, she heard the familiar thump of Santana leaping down the last four steps of her stairs before padding toward the door.

Dressed in nothing but a Janet Jackson concert tee that barely grazed her upper thighs, she's soon leant against the frame with messy hair and black glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Demanding that everyone else read things to her when she gets tired, Santana has an astigmatism that she conveniently ignores most of the time.

"You brought coffee?" It borders on confused, the way she asks it.

Quinn looks down at the cradled tray as though she hadn't spent the last thirty minutes at the Coffee Beanery. Suddenly, she realizes how presumptuous the gesture is, however generous. "Yeah, I figured…."

Santana snatches a cup out of the tray unceremoniously and takes a long sip, stepping back as she does so. Quinn realizes it's the best welcome she's going to get.

She shuffles through the offered doorway still explaining herself, "…I wasn't sure if you'd be awake…and I know how much you love their French Vanilla…." Santana closes the door behind her nodding and saunters into the living room. She flops onto the couch before curling her legs up under herself. Quinn follows her and takes the other end of the sofa, placing her cup on the coffee table, only to pick it back up immediately.

The brunette licks at a dribble of coffee that's made its way down the side of her cup. "What are you hoping to accomplish here, Rocky Balboa? I see the peas worked." Santana's tongue swipes once more at the side of the cup.

Quinn watches with interest. "I thought we could talk."

Santana places her cup on the floor next to the couch and crosses her arms, but maintains a casual tone. "We already talked. You think you want a girlfriend. I'm the town lesbian and super hot, so naturally I'm your choice."

Quinn stares at the cup, distracted by its precarious tilt on the thick carpet. She doesn't even look away from it as she speaks. "That's not how I would describe it."

"Quinn, look, we've had our fun. You proved you're not such a stuck up prude. I proved I could kiss the hottest straight girl in Lima - I think we've earned our brownie patches."

The levity Santana tries to bring to the conversation backfires as Quinn responds without a touch of humor. "That's not how I would describe it."

Santana reacts not uncharacteristically with anger, shifting as though Quinn's insistence has made her physically uncomfortable. "Oh please,-"

Quinn moves across the couch with feline grace, her knees sliding in beside Santana's legs, while her upper body hovers over the startled Cheerio. She reaches down slowly to pick up the leaning coffee cup and move it to the end table behind Santana's head carefully.

Quinn sits back on her haunches after a moment and looks Santana in the face as though she didn't just have her breasts level with those charming frames. "It was going to spill."

The brunette shows no signs of comprehending the explanation, her eyes flitting between breasts that were so near moments before and Quinn's face.

"Your coffee. It was going to spill."

Santana stands up abruptly. "I think you should go home."

"_Because I moved your coffee_?"

"Because you're ruining my life and I keep letting you."

"How am I ruining your life?" Quinn can think of a number of ways, but Santana doesn't know about those.

Santana begins to pace the length of the couch on the other side of the coffee table. "I told you this isn't a game to me. I'm lying to Brittany. I can't focus at Cheerios anymore. I skipped the Troubletones rehearsal today…"

"Wait, what?"

"….you had me practically naked in a bathroom, while you were completely clothed, I'm a top… or whatever, you should've been naked, not me! Nothing is the way it's supposed to be…and then that fight, I should've…"

Quinn ignores Santana's nonsensical rambling. "You skipped rehearsal?" Santana stops her rant to squint her eyes at Quinn in annoyance.

"That's what I said. Corcoran is like an attractive, Coach Sylvester. She has us practicing all the time. Between school and Cheerios and all of this back and forth with you, I'm tired. _I'm exhausted! _I told her I was sick."

"You can't do that! You can't miss rehearsal!" Quinn suddenly stands up as though she can physically force Santana to go to McKinley right then, dressed in practically nothing.

"What crawled up your ass? I can miss whatever I want. Besides, Brittany knows something's up. I can't be around her right now."

"Santana, you're singing lead! You need to be at rehearsal." Quinn walks around the table to where Santana _was_… The brunette is actively avoiding her approach by moving in the opposite direction to fall back onto the couch.

"Thanks for the coaching Cee-Lo, but I already told Shelby I was sick. I'm not going. Besides, what's it to you? You _should_ be happy. Maybe we won't beat New Directions by a landslide if I'm not my usual, perfect self."

"Maybe you won't beat us at all. Have you thought about _that_?" Her words come out faster than she can think them.

Santana's head tilts, like a bird who just noticed a worm squirming blindly into its nest. "Like I said. You should go."

Quinn realizes she's failed again; failed by succeeding. Santana was doing everything the New Directions had hoped, focusing all her energies on Quinn, avoiding Brittany. She takes a deep breath before responding calmly. "You know what. You're right. I should go."

Quinn picks up her purse, prepared to let herself out. She's not sure how she'll get home, but it doesn't really matter. She's surprised to hear Santana at her heels as she opens the door.

"It's funny. I almost believed you last night." Quinn stops at the utterance, hand on the door knob. "When you said you were going to prove it to me, I almost thought you meant it."

Quinn sighs audibly, but can't look back, instead she closes the door quietly behind herself. She can hear Santana clearly through the thick wood nonetheless.

"And this coffee tastes like shit!"

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Once again, Mercedes is at her locker, but this time all she, and anyone, can talk about is Friday's brawl.

"So, you just jumped on him?" Her eyes are wide in amazement as she leans against the lockers next to Quinn's.

"Something like that, I didn't really think about it too much. He was threatening her." Quinn shuffles her books back and forth, looking for a thin legal pad she can never find.

"I know, and that's terrible, but I wouldn't have expected you to do that for _me_, much less Santana."

She stops to look at Mercedes and can't keep the offense from her voice. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Mercedes puts her palms up in a peace making gesture and explains herself quickly. "It's not like you two are always the best of friends. In fact, the biggest fight of junior year had her throwing you to this very floor."

"That was my fault. She…I…I shouldn't have told Coach. She's …." Quinn tries to find the words to explain her behavior without really explaining it, but is falling short.

Mercedes shifts gears at the stammering, her eyes narrowing curiously. "Quinn, I. Know. You. Is something going on?"

Quinn wars with herself, tempted to tell Mercedes everything, from the scheme to the surfacing of real feelings, if only to experience a fraction of a percentage of the anger she's going to feel from Santana soon, but she thinks better of it.

Finally grasping the slight pad, she shuts her locker and starts walking away, responding as she moves. "Nothing's going on. I've gotta go! " Mercedes stares after her suspiciously.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

After sitting through hall passing in her second period class for the full 5 minutes to avoid running into Santana, Quinn arrives to third period late.

She takes her seat and pulls out her things before seeing a note surreptitiously placed on her desk. Lifting her eyes, she catches the whoosh of shiny brown hair swinging back into place in front of her.

-Are you okay?-

_Really? Notes? _As annoyed as she is at the prospect of passing notes in her senior year, especially since texting would be so much easier, Quinn warms to the concern in Rachel's eyes as the diva glances back.

-I'm fine, but I had to end things with Santana. The plan is working and with the way I feel about her now, I can't go through with it.-

Quinn uses her considerable charm to have the note handed to Rachel by the guy who sits in front of her…David or James or whatever his name is.

Moments later, he places the same paper back on her desk with a lingering smile. She smiles back, then waits patiently for him to turn back around.

-I was worried this might happen, but you realize Quinn, you have to tell her what you've done-

Quinn stares at the last few words reading them over and over. Some small part of her had hoped that _if_ the Troubletones won and _if_ enough time had passed, that maybe she would never have to tell her. It was a silly hope.

Quinn tucks the note into her bag and gives a straight-lined smile to Rachel's sympathetic gaze.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

It's clear that Rachel has told Finn to back off of the scheme because Glee goes by without so much as a curious glance from him. Meanwhile, the rest of the group seems more interested than ever, but in their quiet, respectful way. Artie's eyes keep returning to her bruised knuckles, while Puck seems to be slowly adding up the timeline of events on Friday; Tina blushes every time she's caught staring and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, while Kurt wears a transparent grin that's supposed to make her feel like he's thinking of anything but his gaydar pinging like an ambulance siren in his head.

As odd and uncomfortable as Glee is, she would have given anything to stay there in lieu of going to Cheerios practice. Coach Sylvester had patted her on the back in the halls that morning with her now standard, knowing look. "Heard you took out the new wide receiver, Q! I like my Cheerios to show physical dominance, especially off school grounds." Quinn had replied with a soft, "thanks", before Sue continued. "And in defense of your Co-Captain, no less! I do want to remind you of our little conversation though. It would seem you've gotten yourself in over your head, Q. _Public_ _accusations_ that you seem more like Santana's girlfriend than poor, hapless Brittany? A love triangle is the last thing I need on my squad with Nationals a month away. Good thing that's just a rumor, right?" Quinn nodded and Sue swept away to corner Beiste about her caveman-players attacking Cheerios, somehow relating it to substantial athletic budgetary fines.

Loathe to see her or Santana alone, Quinn takes the route she had been using successfully all day and decides to arrive late and suffer the extra laps.

XOXOXOXOXO

She skips the locker room after practice and drives home immediately. She doesn't have a plan on how to keep this up all week. Sectionals are Friday night. If she can just stay away from Santana until then.

Quinn's phone twinkles with an incoming text. **You're fucking up! Coach yelled at me because YOU were late today**

They hadn't been texting each other since the day Santana kissed her. It was an unspoken rule to avoid evidence of what was going on, but apparently Santana didn't care anymore. The next text comes quickly.

**And I know you're avoiding me. Get over yourself**

Quinn's thumbs slide over the key pad quickly.

**You said you were tired. I'm just giving you space**

It's mere seconds before Santana fires back.

**Guess your phase is officially over. Congrats!**

Quinn wants to deny it, wants to tell her that she's never been more sure that this isn't a phase, but if this is what it takes to reverse the damage she has caused then she has to do it.

It doesn't make her heart ache any less though.

QSQSQSQSQSQSQSQS

Santana can't believe they've lost. She was so sure they would win. The Mash-Off had proven that they were the better group. The New Directions had been wary of her like kicked puppies since hearing them belt out Adele that day. How could this happen?

Quinn's apologetic glancing throughout the post show refreshments made Santana even more irritated. All week long the blonde had ignored her and now that they've lost, she looks like she'd give anything to abandon her celebration to help them lick their wounds. Total bullshit.

It's a week before Schue gathers them in the choir room to invite them back. He goes on and on about them being a family and how the girls had actually done a good thing by leaving, but that the group was not complete without them, yadda, yadda. … Santana already knew she was rejoining. She was just glad she wasn't the one asking.

It would mean seeing more of Quinn and as much as she hated her right now, she had to admit to being drawn to the blonde like a magnet. She'd love to think that the kiss …or rather kisses… changed things to make it that way, but it hadn't. Brittany was right about how badly she wanted Quinn back on the Cheerios and it had nothing to do with cheering, or even winning. She just wanted to be around her.

She wished she could make these feelings go away. Quinn was straight after all. She had done everything she could to prove that to the girl before they went too far. It's just that if Santana was really honest with herself - for once, she wanted to be wrong.

When they arrive later that day to the choir room, the New Directions are pleasantly surprised. Schue is grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"Welcome back! The New Directions are whole once more!" Schue walks to the white board and starts writing. 'Reunion'

"Our assignment this week is to come back together, so I have paired up some duets between the Troubletones and New Directions. Mercedes and Sam." Mercedes pretends to be disappointed. "Sugar and Artie." Artie wheels himself closer to the bubbly rich girl. "Brittany and Rachel." Santana is dreading this. Wasn't girls-loving-girls-week enough? Was she really going to have to sing with Finn too? If this is the karma kick-back for taking that boy's virginity, she pleads with the heavens to understand that the act alone should have been enough.

"Santana and Quinn."

"What?!" Their voices ring out in unison. Schue ignores them, continuing his sermon.

"In order to heal this group, we need to get past any of the hurt that we caused each other when we were competitors. I've seen you guys. You're not the same. Quinn, just a few weeks ago, you and Santana looked like you couldn't be closer at Breadstix.." _What the hell?! _Quinn and Santana look scandalized. "I was picking up my carry-out and I saw you two holding hands like the best friends I know you are.." Schue has no idea what he has done. Santana feels the whole room war with which one of them to stare at given this new information. Schue presses on as though the rising tension is because his point is so good. "And now look at you. Sue tells me you don't even speak at Cheerios practice. We have to fix this and what better way than through song."

_Shit._ This is Sue's doing. They hadn't been speaking, but Santana thought that they were still doing well enough to get by. Apparently Coach Sylvester didn't agree.

Quinn looks like she wishes she could crawl under a rock. Santana can feel Brittany unlatch her pinkie.

Finally, Schue senses that perhaps Sue has led him astray, but as always, bad idea or not, he presses on. "Okay, let's get started!" Mr. Schue claps his hands but then makes an exit with his coffee cup, presumably to go find out how, exactly, he had been duped by Coach Sylvester once again.

Brittany immediately turns to Santana as the rest of the room takes their time squaring off and choosing friends to help. Quinn feigns a need to go to the bathroom, while Rachel seems to be respecting their space. Santana finds this odd, but doesn't have time to think about it.

"You hold hands with Quinn?" Brittany is a ball of confusion and hurt and Santana's only response is to try to sweep it all under the rug.

"No, no, it's not like how Mr. Schue said it. We were…she was comforting me."

"Why did you need comforting? Why didn't you call me?"

"It was about stuff that you-"

"Don't understand? I understand more than you think Santana."

"What? No- " Santana can't finish though.

"I see the way you look at her. I know she didn't cage fight that football player for no reason." It sounds silly, the way she says it, but there's nothing humorous in her voice. "You held my hand under a napkin, but Mr. Schue can see you with her from across the room?"

"That was before." Santana tries to grab her hand now, but it's pulled away. "It's not what you're thinking."

"Really, what am I thinking?"

Brittany is as upset as Santana has ever seen her and she doesn't know how to stop this. Why can't any of the glee club kids interrupt this like they normally would with some inane comment about Lady Gaga? Santana looks around the room and all of them are making a pretense of working on their songs. And if Santana didn't know better, she'd think they seemed… ashamed.

Santana lowers her voice to try to calm Brittany down. "Look, we should talk about this later."

"No, now." Quinn walks back in the room at the exact wrong time.

Brittany stands and approaches her quickly. "Quinn, why were you two holding hands?" Quinn looks past Brittany to Santana who is getting up, but seems so stunned by the turn of events that she isn't fully reacting. Brittany does not behave like this.

Rachel is suddenly between the blondes. "Brittany! We really should get started on our duet. I'm sure Quinn and Santana were simply connecting about how delicious the food is at Breadstix. I, for one, have often grasped my tablemate's hand in appreciation for an al dente pasta dish there."

"Rachel, I look forward to working on our duet, because I think your voice and mine will go together like Coca-cola and alka seltzer, but I'm busy right now." Brittany side steps Rachel to better see Quinn.

"Rachel's right, Brittany. It was just a moment." Quinn tries to diffuse the situation as well, but to no avail.

"What about the fight? What about how you won't talk again for no reason? There's a reason. It's the thing you both want."

Quinn looks down silently and her guilt coats the room with the fall of her eyelashes.

Brittany turns to Santana, tears rising.

"The thing you want is her." Brittany opens up her stance to look between the two of them. Rachel squints like she's about to witness a plane crash. "And she wants you too."

Santana finally breaks free of her shock, "Brittany, I'm-"

The tears fall as Brittany pulls away and runs out of the room. Mr. Schue walks in with a fresh cup of coffee right after. "Hey, what happened?"

Santana would love to knock the hot liquid into his plaid-covered chest. She'd love to flip every chair in the room. Quinn's eyes finally lift to meet hers and she doesn't even know she's going to do it.

Santana's out of the room and down the hall in the direction Brittany ran before she can even see Quinn turn back. It was a loud slap. The room was already staring at them, but if they weren't it would have been loud enough to end conversations, to stop melodies, to break hearts.

Santana goes to the locker rooms knowing Brittany won't know where else to hide. She hears the sniffling as she walks in.

"I don't want to talk to you." Brittany is of course at their lockers, the habitual walk to the back so routine that she wouldn't stray.

"I'm sorry, Brittany."

Santana finally turns the corner to see Brittany slumped on the floor with her knees to her chest.

"Why didn't you just tell me? You could have told me."

"I don't know." Santana doesn't want to control this conversation, like she did the one in the choir room. With everything out in the open, she just wants to give Brittany whatever she needs – answer any of her questions.

She sniffles a few times. "You've kissed?"

"Yes."

"More than once? " And before Santana can answer. "You kissed at the party, when I couldn't find you."

Santana looks away. "Yes."

"Do you love her?"

Taking a deep breath, the brunette exhales slowly. She doesn't have an answer because she doesn't know, but 'I don't know' isn't truthful either somehow. More of her thinks she does than less at this point.

"Does she love you?"

"No."

"How do you know?"

"I don't."

Brittany's face crumbles with the admission, knowing what it really means. "But you want her to?"

Santana sighs again. "It doesn't matter what I want. What matters is that you're my best friend and I'm so sorry that I hurt you."

"What you want does matter. I just wish you didn't feel like you had to lie to me."

"I know and I'm so sorry." Santana just wants to make the last month go away, all of it. She was fine with Brittany. It wasn't love but it wasn't this ache that Quinn causes. "We can get past this, B. We can be like before. Quinn is just…she's just…"

"Santana." It's that rare tone of voice, the one that holds contradictory emotions in equal weight – anger, sorrow, forgiveness.

Santana is properly silenced.

"I know you mean well, but I really just want to be alone right now."

Santana nods and leaves quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

I returned to the locker room late, attempting to give Brittany the space she requested even at my own peril. Unfortunately, I wasn't the only one with that idea and I should have known since she's been late to everything the past few weeks.

Her cheek still burns a little more brightly on the left side. She exhales through her nose in frustration at my arrival.

"I'll be out of your way in a minute."

I find that I haven't even started opening my locker, I'm just standing there watching her, trying to figure out how I feel right now. I only know one thing for sure.

"I shouldn't have slapped you. I'm sorry."

When she looks up at me, she has the strangest expression. Normally when you apologize to someone, you can feel the shift in power – In saying you were wrong, the other person can now pity and forgive you for your transgressions. But Quinn still looks forlorn, like the power remains with me.

"I shouldn't have told you how I felt. None of this would have happened."

I sit on the bench, resigned to being chewed out by Coach at any rate, so why not take my time. I'm thinking about if all of this mess, terrible as it is, wasn't inevitable on some level. Brittany and I couldn't stay together forever when we weren't in love. Quinn's voice breaks through my thoughts.

"I need to tell you something…and it's going to make you mad."

I turn my head and there are tears welling up in her eyes. They're red-rimmed, probably from tears I caused an hour ago. And that, combined with the pink of my slap, overwhelms me with guilt.

"Quinn, this is as much my fault as it is yours. In fact, I'm worse for lying to Brittany."

"You're not-"

"No, I am. Whatever you're going to say, I'm sure it's not going to help us win Nationals for Glee club or Cheerios, and honestly, that's all I've got left."

Quinn stares at me, her mouth twitching like every part of her still wants to confess whatever it is that she's done wrong. I'm sure it's just admitting that I was an experiment after all and as much as that might help me deal with my feelings for her, I don't think I can handle anymore hurt today.

"I need to win at something." I press her to stop fighting me on this.

She blinks and wipes away the tears that escape, nodding in agreement to my plea, before turning back to her locker. We get ready silently.

Just before we're about to face the music, or bullhorn as it were, she touches my arm to stop me.

"I'll tell Mr. Schue that we can't do the duet."

I turn to look at her, and even with skin slightly mottled by crying, she's so very beautiful. I decide instantaneously to be selfish.

"No, I need to stay on top or Berry will get all the leads at Regionals. Your voice sounds best with mine."

I didn't mean for it to sound like that, like more, but it did. Quinn is taken aback by my decision and again, I wonder at this power shift that still has me in control.

"Oh, okay then."

We walk into the gym and Coach immediately drops her bullhorn to the floor with a clatter.

"In my office, now!"

I had anticipated anger, but not this. We sit and look away from each other as though it will weaken her case against us.

"This is exactly what I warned you about. Exactly! And yet here we are! My two captains walking in 10 minutes late because of a love triangle that I strictly forbade! What do you have to say for yourselves?"

We glance at each other and then away again, but we both know there isn't anything we could say that would calm Coach.

"Brittany tells me you're in love but you won't admit it. Is that true?"

Now we look at each other, in shock at the blunt question, but also to read each other's reaction. It's unclear to me what Quinn is thinking, other than our shared instinct to always reply negatively when in doubt.

"No" We say it in unison, but it sounds flat, dishonest.

"We'll see about that. I orchestrated your little duet project this week and your Cupie Doll Schue fell right into my trap. Your consistent violence" Coach looks directly at me. "has only made him more convinced that you ladies need an intervention. Since I am a certified Couples Therapist, I'll be assisting you by picking your song for this Friday."

I bite the inside of my cheek, unwilling to show fear.

"I was still the hottest 'It' girl on the scene, traveling the world with oil tycoons when this was a #1 hit at Studio 54." Sue looks off and away, apparently reliving the past. "Your baby-breathed teacher isn't even educated enough to pay tribute to this legend in your classroom, so I'll be educating you both about life and music, my idiot captains." She pauses to let our idiocy sink in. "You'll be singing 'Heaven Knows' by Donna Summer."

Quinn scrunches her face in confusion, while I simply shrug. I know the song.

"I'm impressed, Sandbags, you've heard of it." I nod, with the slightest hint of pride. "Well, Donna's version, god rest her soul, is absolutely perfect and I would hate to hear you two ruin that, so I'd like you to do that thing you youngsters are so into these days where you take all the fun and vibrancy out of a song making it slow and depressing, like a funeral march."

"An acoustic version?" Quinn offers.

"There's my little Yale upstart." Quinn blanches and I quirk my brow at her.

"Yale likes well-rounded students, Quinn, did you think they wouldn't contact me, your long-time coach?"

"You applied to Yale?" I'm not entirely shocked that she applied, more so that I didn't know.

Quinn looks backed into a corner, which is odd because who really gives a shit where you apply. It only matters where you get in. I'm guessing this is a secret because she didn't want people to know if she didn't get in.

"Yes, I did." She's using that rigid, Fabray voice.

"And wouldn't I be lauded impossibly more for not only coaching excellent cheerleaders, but scholars to boot! You see ladies, as much as I insult you and tear away at every last shred of your confidence, I only want what's best for you. Whether that be going to pretentious universities or dating incestuously amongst yourselves." We scrunch our faces up at the description. "You'll be singing the duet and you'll be on time to practice and you'll win me my National Championship next weekend because what's good for me is what's good for you."

She leans forward and lifts her brows in that sociopathic sort of way. "Am I understood?"

"Yes, coach."

"Good, get back to practice!" We start to walk listening to her drone on. "If you come late one more time, I want you to know that I have already contacted the South African Exotic Aqualife Circus and my contacts there say they can fly me a great white overnight if they can have exclusive rights to the video of our performance. We'll just move the choreography to the tank…"

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Brittany isn't ignoring me, but she's keeping her distance and I'm trying to respect that. Meanwhile, Quinn and I are being forced to spend even more time together to get this duet ready. The song is, oddly, as good as Coach Sylvester described it to be, but we're struggling with making it acoustic. The band nerds have got the instrumentals down and they'd normally be complaining that it's taking so long, but their fear of me and the added bonus of watching two cheerleaders sing a love song to each other has them not only quiet, but grossly content.

Personally, I'm struggling with the lyrics. Both Brittany and Coach, it would seem, have this idea about Quinn and I that is so different from the reality. I wish it was like they see it, but a more fitting song would be 'Wicked Game'. I'm almost glad we weren't able to choose for ourselves because I don't know if I could have picked anything that didn't drip with unrequited love.

I don't love her. I might. It doesn't matter anyway.

"Santana, you're zoning out on me." She turns to the band nerds. "Guys, would you mind giving us 5?"

They nod, their eyes lingering on her pretty face. I would have _told_ them to leave and come back in 5, not asked. We're different that way, I guess. She turns back to me on her stool.

"Are you sure you want to sing this? I know Brittany is being really mature about this whole thing, but I don't know how I feel about singing this in front of her and-"

"Brittany believes in fairy tales. She thinks we belong together. What bothered her was that I lied. Besides Coach says we have to."

"Yeah, but what do you want to do?"

"I want to win a National Championship. I know you don't care about Cheerios, but Coach would ruin your chances at Yale. You have to do this as much as I do."

"Yale isn't everything."

"Really? Is that why you looked like Coach had poured all the skeletons out of your closet?"

Quinn purses her lips. "I mean, yes, I want to go, but not if it means you and I can't get along."

"We're singing a love song for 'Reunited' week, how is this not getting along?"

"You know what I mean." She's frustrated by my pragmatic stance, so I'll take a different route.

"Do I? I know that you toyed with me and got bored."

"That's not true." She says it softly, but not without fervor.

"Well, what is then? Because you bailed on me after…after you made it seem like…" I don't want to share this with her. I don't want to feel the power shift.

"You needed space. You said it yourself."

"And it was so easy for you to give." My voice is laced with disappointment.

"It was not easy. I wanted you to win." It takes me a second to understand that she's talking about-Sectionals. I'm immediately angered by her pity.

"And we lost!" I see it in her eyes, that she's said too much, and it makes me replay it in my mind. "What does that have to do with anything?"

She's somehow whiter than usual. "It doesn't."

"Clearly, it does. What do you mean you wanted me to win?"

"You deserved the chance, I…"

"Quinn, what are you talking about?"

"I was distracting you. I wanted you to focus on Sectionals and I was a distraction."

She's talking like someone on the stand, picking her words slowly. I still don't understand her, but I'm trying.

"You ignored me because you wanted me to beat the New Directions? That doesn't even make any sense."

"I didn't want you to beat us, I just wanted you to be your best."

"You said you wanted me to win." Quinn takes in what she said as though it's the first time she's heard it and yet she doesn't take it back. I'm more interested in her decision to ignore me. "Well, Sectionals is long over. If staying away from me was so hard, why did you keep doing it?"

The band nerds walk back in sheepishly, the bushy-haired one speaking lowly. "My mom is, um, she's coming to get us in a half hour so if we're going to practice…?"

Quinn seems relieved at the interruption. "Yeah, we should get back to it. Only two days until we perform."

It's even harder than it was before to sing to her, knowing she ignored me in some misguided attempt to help me. All I thought about was her. I don't know if it would have been any different had she been around, but there was no avoiding the distraction.

As we walk to our cars she finally answers my question from earlier.

"I don't want you to hate me. I stayed away because the more I'm around you, the worse it will feel when you do."

We stop at her car. She always gets to school first when the close spots are available, mine is several rows back.

I'm so confused. "Why would I hate you?"

She's looking anywhere but at me and she's fighting back tears. What the hell did she do?

"I know I lie a lot, even to myself…mostly to myself, but I want you to know that how I felt…" She wipes at a stray tear. "...how I feel about you is not a lie."

I'm trying to process what she has said and in that time she has gotten into her car and started it up. I bang on her window.

"Quinn! Quinn!"

She pulls away and I'm left standing alone.

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It's like the reset button has been hit the next day. Something about the fluorescent lighting, the whir of conversations and slamming of lockers makes last night's revelations, or lack thereof, seem far away. I see Quinn at her locker, but it's like a different version of her, one not riddled with some unknown guilt.

We don't really talk until Glee and even then it's just about the song.

Brittany, eyes closed, has her finger pressed firmly to the ear closest to Rachel as she sings in their corner of the room. The diva looks offended and it makes me laugh. I take a moment to appreciate my friend. That's all she is now, maybe that's all she ever was.

"Santana" Quinn says it lightly, carefully.

I turn back to her and we start the song again. It's finally starting to sound right, if not emotionally charged. At times I can't keep the hurt from my voice. It's the one thing I hate about Glee, how easily my façade is dissolved.

I don't know what Quinn did and it's driving me crazy trying to figure it out. It must relate to Secitonals somehow, otherwise why did she mention it and why did she seem so caught up when she did.

I hate to even think it, but they won fair and square. Choosing Michael Jackson songs was ridiculously smart on Mr. Schue's part and they sounded good, even if they did get to do one song too many.

We lost, but she wanted us to win. Why? And why would that make me hate her?

I know Quinn won't tell me what she did. If I was her I wouldn't, but I have to find out.

We finish up eventually and plan one more evening practice with the nerds for tonight. Cheerios practice goes well and even with all the tumult, we're ready for next weekend.

Quinn is already in the choir room when I get there and she puts down the book she was reading. The girl will read anytime there's a free moment. I find it the tiniest bit adorable and I don't even use that word.

"I will not lose to Rachel or Sam." I don't mention Artie because he's partnered with Sugar.

Quinn chuckles. "I don't think it's a competition."

"Everything's a competition, you know that." And she does, it's why she doesn't object.

We sing and sing and sing and it almost results in making the words meaningless, almost.

The nerds head home after hugs from Quinn for staying so late. They would have stayed another 24 hours straight for a kiss on the cheek. They almost look disappointed that I don't swing over there with the same affection, but the moment I see it, they walk quickly out the door.

"You could've at least shaken their hands. They don't even get any credit for doing this."

"They get to stare at you for hours, what more do they want?"

"That's a prize?"

We start to head out ourselves.

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous. I'm sure they're going to have to change their underwear from that hug you gave them."

"I like how you make it seem like they aren't here for you too."

"Oh, they're here for me. That's a given and I'm willing to admit it, which is exactly why I don't touch them. I prefer to stay firmly in their wet dreams alone. I don't want to catch anything."

"You're so disgusting."

"Whatever. I'm just keeping it real."

We've made it to our cars, well, Quinn's, and the parallel universe we've been living in all day has disappeared.

"Quinn, you said-"

"I should go."

She reaches for her car door and I grab her arm, stepping forward.

"Don't. I let you do that yesterday. Today, I need you to explain yourself."

"There's nothing to explain. I felt bad that the Troubletones lost. I didn't want to make you feel worse by hanging around you and reminding you."

She's lying through her teeth and it's so textbook – she's chewing her lip and looking at me for only the shortest of milliseconds before looking away again.

"You mentioned lying last night, which is apt, because you're doing it right now. What did you lie about?"

She looks me in the eye now and she doesn't waver. "I really like you Santana, more than you know. I can't tell you about my lies right now. I just want you to know that truth."

I feel manipulated and as redundant as it sounds, lied to. "Tell me what you did!" My grip on her arm tightens.

"It's better if I don't. We're going to win. I need you to wait until then." She sounds so calm and wise, and my clenched fingers loosen.

"Next weekend, Quinn." It's a demand.

"Next weekend." She gets in her car and waits for me to walk to mine.

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Artie and Sugar sing 'Reunited' by Peaches and Herb and it's as uninventive as I would expect. Sugar has improved since her Glee Club debut, but not enough to hold a candle to the rest of us.

Mercedes and Sam sing Usher's "You Make Me Wanna" which is a thinly veiled attack on Mercedes boyfriend. I'm not sure how that relates to reuniting, outside of their personal lives, but Schue doesn't seem to mind. The begging and pleading ad libs make their performance a little humorous.

Rachel and Brittany, in huge, Elton John glasses take the stage next. Rachel shakes her head Britt before she starts, 'That's What Friends Are For". The whole room is singing along with them by the end and it would be a winner if it weren't so cheesy. I sang, but…whatever.

Quinn and I make our way to the familiar stools after the group hug ends. Quinn winks at the nerds and I roll my eyes. Sue walks in just as we're getting comfortable and takes a seat next to Brittany. They're both eyeing us expectantly and I glance at Quinn who clearly feels the same pressure.

The nerds begin playing and I look at Quinn because like it or not, the song sounds best when I'm thinking about her. The softer version of the song doesn't lose any of the urgency and I suddenly don't regret saying that she sounds best with me. It's true.

When we finish and look to the group, there's a brief, awkward silence. Then a slow clap starts up and they all shake out of whatever stupor they were in to chime in.

That shit was flawless! Ain't no need for a pause to think about it! I look bothered even well into the applause.

Quinn nudges me and we return to our seats. I don't miss Sue's abrupt exit.

Mr. Schue walks to the front of the room. "Wow, what amazing performances! Quinn and Santana especially. I feel like you two really took the assignment to heart, even after our rough start." He turns from us to the group. "I think you all already know this, but I'm so happy to have us back together and I can't imagine we'll be anything less than National Champs now that we're a family again!"

The group all cheers, hugging each other. Quinn is beside me so we do too, however awkwardly, and it's then that I see it – 'It' being Rachel. I normally call her that, but in this scenario it's doubly true because suddenly it clicks. No one likes to self-congratulate and pre-celebrate like Rachel, so why is she watching me hug Quinn with a scrutiny usually reserved for her mirror.

Rachel knows about Quinn.


	8. Chapter 8

Rachel stares at me in disbelief. "Wha..I..I don't know what you're talking about, Santana."

"I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. What did she do?" I step into her threateningly.

Rachel takes a step back. "She…sssshhee…. will tell you."

My finger pokes into her collarbone. "But I'm not asking her, I'm asking you."

Rachel takes this as her moment to stop cowering and stand up straight, whatever the consequence. I would laugh if it weren't for the smidgen of admiration I have for her courage.

"And all I'm going to say is that she cares for you very much and if she hasn't told you yet, there's a good reason."

"I'm sure there is, but what I'm wondering…What really doesn't make sense, is how you know and I don't_._ You two are _barely_ friends." It's meant to hurt her, to slice at her fantasy friendship with Quinn, in the hopes that she'll bite back. But she stares at me resolute in her decision.

"You may be right, but she trusts me about this and I won't betray that trust."

I roll my eyes at her loyalty and start to walk away empty handed.

"Oh, and Santana." I turn. "I thought your duet the other day was really beautiful. You two are good together, you shouldn't forget that."

It's Rachel's kind of jab - rising above the petty to hit you with truths you'd rather no one else knew. It makes me wonder how much she knows even beyond this secret. Could Quinn have confided in Berry about us, about everything?

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Monday can't come soon enough for Coach Sylvester, who gave the squad the weekend off uncharacteristically. The moment practice ends she points us to her office, just me and Q. We shuffle into our usual seats and prepare for the onslaught.

"You didn't hold a candle to Donna, rest her soul, but your rendition was well done ladies, I have to admit."

We both mumble out thanks, worried about where this conversation could possibly go next. Sylvester seems to thrive on the tension, holding out and letting it linger, before she finally breaks the silence.

"I don't get to say this very often. I might even enjoy it." I clench my jaw in preparation. "Brittany was right."

Brittany says a lot of things. Most of those things are based on Pokemon logic.

"I'm sorry, what?" I just need a second.

"You are sorry, but not about this, Lopez. I saw it with my own eyes."

"You think we love each other?" Quinn asks and I'm appreciative of her incredulous tone, even as it stings me.

"I know you do. I also know that you two are hopeless. Deep in the back of your teeny, tiny minds, you worry that this isn't going to be easy, like all of your other adolescent affairs. Quinn, what if she doesn't like you as much as she liked Brittany? What if she breaks your heart? And Santana, just how long have you hoped you could turn Quinn's head? What if she turns away just as fast? "

We sit in absolute terror at her words. "All of that aside, you do love each other."

My fear has asserted itself, naturally, in anger. "What does this have to do with Cheerios?!"

"So young, so naive, sandbags. What I saw in that choir room was a performance elevated by two people who would do anything for one another. But you couldn't avoid it, not with the lyrics I picked. What I see on my gym floor, however, is two people who would do anything to escape how they are feeling and therefore, each other. You're out of sync and you're affecting my chances at a National Championship. I won't allow that."

"What do you propose we do? Assuming you're right." Quinn says it quietly and my head turns immediately at the utterance.

"I'm so glad you asked." Another pause for Sue's own entertainment. "You will date each other."

"Excuse me? That's got to be illegal for you to even suggest." Coach rolls her eyes before leaning towards my gaping teammate.

"It's also illegal to vote with a felony on your record, Quinn. I don't think it bars you from applying to Yale outright, but ….well, hell, they might think it makes you a more diverse candidate!" It's a threat of the wildest variety, but something tells me that if anyone could do it, it's Sue.

Quinn looks appalled, so it's time for me to step in. "How does this help? Again, assuming you're right, like Quinn said, how can forcing us to be together make things any better? It will be even more awkward if we're pretending to be in love."

"You're right. It wouldn't work if you were pretending. It's a good thing you won't be." She's serious. I can't believe she's serious. Quinn and I are both in a stupor.

"You will date openly through Nationals. One week. After that, you can do as you please and I will take the B&E off Quinn's record."

"Wait, you already put it on there?!" Quinn is irate.

"A lot of people consider you two equals and if there were to be a more devious one, most people would pick Santana, but not me. I'd pick you every day of the week, Fabray. "

We both look affronted, mouths agape, but Quinn closes her mouth slowly and it makes me think of the secret she's been keeping.

"I want you to know I normally charge $150 an hour for this kind of counseling, but because you're my Captains, it's only going to be $20, you can make your payments through Becky. Dismissed." Coach leans back in her chair and rests her feet on her desktop.

We get up and walk towards the door in a dream state.

"Hands, ladies." We turn back confused.

Sue lifts her brows at our hands hanging limply at our sides. I still don't get it, until I feel the warmth of Quinn's palm sinking into mine. She leads me out of the office and back to the locker room.

She's going on and on about how improper this is and how she doesn't understand why Coach wasn't fired years ago for her antics. I'm only half listening.

_Quinn is my girlfriend._

"...Are you even listening to me?! I can't believe you're not more outraged."

That snaps me back to Quinn shoving her clothes into her duffle bag with a rage I haven't seen in a while.

"We're 18, Quinn, I'm sure she's allowed to say almost anything to us now. Besides how bad can it be? We already spend every waking moment together. Now we just have to hold hands and smile."

"It doesn't bother you that we're in an….." She searches for the right description. "An arranged marriage for godsakes?"

"It's a week. Am I that repulsive? Or are you just afraid of everyone knowing that Quinn Fabray could be attracted to a girl?"

I had meant for my comments to be flippant, but as I was speaking they became more and more bitter. She seems wounded by my tone. It even takes her a minute to come up with a reply.

"That's not what I meant. If we were to be together, shouldn't it be because we choose to be."

"Yes, and I get that you already made that choice, so let's do this one week and then you can go back to being the Queen of the hetero dating scene. Believe me, the guys will only love you more for this."

"Wait, _I_ _made that choice_? You told me to leave your house."

"And you did. And you avoided me for weeks. And you're hiding some deep dark secret from me. So, yeah, you made the choice." I finish packing my own bag and shut my locker. "I gave you an out and you took it."

I blast the door open on my way out. She doesn't follow.

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The next day she shows up at my locker before First Period and I lift my eyebrows questioningly.

"Coach says I should walk you to class, like Finn used to do for me. I don't know if I'm more offended at being compared to Finn or that she thinks I need pointers on how to treat my girlfriend."

The way she says 'my girlfriend' hits me funny and all the anger I had for her yesterday dissolves. One week.

"I guess we have to start somewhere." I put out my hand for her to take and she interlaces our fingers.

I had gotten all of this particular brand of attention before, but I realized it was Quinn's first time. I suddenly felt protective of her. Brittany never cared, she was never afraid to be herself, even when people didn't like her for it. Quinn is different. She's more like me, and I remember how this felt.

I thought she might be tempted to unclasp our hands, but her grip just tightens and her chin lifts ever so slightly, as more and more people stop to stare.

When we get to my class, I release her hand and turn to walk in but she grabs my elbow, turning me back. I figure she wants to schedule our next public display, but instead she leans in and kisses me quickly. I feel the heat rise in my face. The silent stares give way to audible gasps and cat calls.

Quinn smiles at me shyly, before turning away and giving a glare that brings the halls back to a low chatter.

The rest of the day goes much the same. We sit beside each other at lunch and Quinn pulls me in for another kiss after I frown at her for knocking my water bottle over. The student body is entranced, watching our every move. It's gross really.

Jacob Ben-Israel posts a 'Breaking News' web release on his blog complete with photos of us in the halls and more than a few of his own imaginings about our relationship.

By the time we make it to Glee, our classmates are sitting in rapt anticipation of our arrival. We ignore their attention as we take seats next to each other. I glance Brittany's way. I had forgotten how this might make her feel, but she is the only one seemingly uninterested, sitting beside Sugar, trying to take the screw out of her chair with her fingernail.

Schue buzzes in frustrated. "What is going on?! No one is watching where they are going. Everyone is too busy staring at their phones." Heads turn our way, but we say nothing.

Rachel sends a wary look towards Quinn before speaking. "Quinn and Santana are the new Alpha Female Power Couple, Mr. Schue. It's all anyone can talk about."

Schue turns his attention to us, a little perplexed. "Oh, well...congratulations, girls. This isn't exactly the outcome I thought Sue's Conflict Resolution meetings would have, but all the better."

I simply shake my head at Schue's naiveté. I know Quinn is holding her tongue and I place my hand on her leg to keep it that way. She looks at me and chews the inside of her bottom lip to keep her words in.

"Well, we've got a lot to do to get ready for Regionals. I was thinking..."

I can't hear Schue anymore because Quinn has put her hand on top of mine and is rubbing her thumb up and down mindlessly. It's embarrassing how much I like it.

The Cheerios are nonplussed by the whole thing, mostly because their fear of Sue supersedes all of their personal thoughts and opinions. And their fear of Quinn and I individually must only be increased exponentially by us in combination.

Practice is the same, except it's not. We keep looking over at each other and smiling and it's not the act, at least not for me. There's this relief to it being out in the open, how I feel about her, even if she is only pretending. It's like Coach has given me this opportunity to see what it would be like if Quinn was gay. If we were together. I don't know how I'll feel about it in a week when the pretense is over, but right now, I'm happy.

QSQSQSQSQSQSQSQS

The shock and excitement of our relationship wears off by Friday, but not the curiosity. We still catch side-long glances and cause unfettered stuttering, but for the most part it's not the circus it had been.

We get out of school early for the long ride to Nashville, where the National Cheerleading Championship is being held this year, and all of us have overstuffed suitcases appropriate for a weeklong stay, rather than the 2 nights we'll be spending there.

Quinn has me listening to some weird indie-rock she found recently and it's making me think she's invested too much time in creating her lesbian persona. It's all soft feminine voices and barely there guitar chords. Great sleeping music.

I force her to listen to some of the raunchier music in my playlists just to watch her reaction to the foul and tasteless lyrics and it's as priceless as I had hoped. 'Pop That' might be the best $1.29 I've ever spent and the eye roll I get for jumping around in my seat beside her to the beat will be cherished for a lifetime.

When we finally arrive, Coach gives us our room assignments and to no ones' surprise, Quinn and I are not together. She, at least, gets to room with Brittany. I, on the other hand, get Shannon Walker, who notoriously talks in her sleep.

I'm kind of glad they're rooming with each other. While Brittany and I made up, Quinn has still been trying to keep her distance from Brittany, even though the taller girl has surely forgiven her.

You would think a bunch of teenage girls in a hotel would be up all night acting crazy, but we're not. Beyond the fact that Coach would kill us and send us home in our ample suitcases, we're determined to win tomorrow. It's quiet on our floor by 10pm.

Quiet, except for Shannon, having a one-sided arguement with her mother about babysitting her little brother. I put my headphones on and realize I accidentally took Quinn's iTouch instead of mine. I turn on one of her folky playlists and fall asleep.

The next day is all you would expect. An explosion of glitter.

We perform second to last, with the defending champs getting the prized, final slot.

I know it goes against everything we've ever said or even felt, but while we're up there, Quinn and I just click and we have...fun. It's fun. We've been technically perfect with the routine for weeks, but being so close to her this week, feeling like we're more to each other, has helped more than either of us would like to admit. When we land our synchronized back flips, our vaulted aerials, we catch the tiniest moments to smile at each other and the energy is electric on that floor.

We grasp each other in tight hugs after we exit to the sideline. The other Cheerios are a little surprised by the display since we rarely express any level of approval regarding the routines.

The San Diego South Pelicans are next and it's clear why they won last year. We're nervous as they run off the floor and the Master of Ceremonies takes the stage.

Sue stands between us and drapes her arms over our shoulders as the results are read. There's a moment before they announce the winner, an eerie silence instead of the clichéd drumroll, and Sue speaks to us without ever looking away from the podium.

"Either way girls, you've made me very proud this week."

"..._**The William McKinley High Cheerios of Lima, Ohio!"**_

It's a frantic race to the stage, Coach Sylvester walks slowly, arrogantly, as our teammates trample up the steps and almost tackle the trophy. We're both so stunned by her words that we simply feel the rush of their bodies gliding past us.

"Where are my Captains?" Becky lets go of a hug from Brittany to grab at Sue's waist.

Quinn and I, awakened from our daze, finally jog up to the stage to hug Brittany and the other girls. Sue gives a long winded speech mostly about herself before getting choked up a bit and handing Quinn and I the trophy.

"These girls are irreplaceable."

Quinn and I quickly pass the trophy on to our rabid teammates and give Coach a hug individually. I hold her for longer, knowing this is the end of Cheerios and Coach squeezes me tightly...until a reporter from ESPN shows up and I'm rather abruptly disentangled from her body.

Quinn laughs beside us and I slap her arm before bringing her into a heavy embrace. She leans down into my neck to speak just to me.

"You're amazing."

I let it sink in, before turning into her ear.

"I couldn't have done this without you." She leans back from me to look me in the eyes.

"Yes, you could have, but I'm glad we did it together."

Brittany rams into us, shaking us loose from the moment we were sharing. "I love you guys soooo much! And I love pizza!" She turns to the squad. "We're each eating our own pizza tonight! Everyone gets a pizza!"

The team cheers as we collide into each other happily, unbalanced by the adrenaline pumping through our veins, until Coach is done with her interviews and it's time to hop back on the bus.

Dinner is, in fact, pizza, but Brittany is the only one who approaches eating an entire one herself. It's well past midnight when coach finally makes us 'turn off all that Rihanna nonsense' and go to our own rooms for the night. I smile at Shannon, mostly because we won, and we start to head down the hall when Brittany yanks on my arm. My ex makes it clear that Shannon should keep it moving with a blank stare. As Shannon walks off, Brittany pulls me closer to her conspiratorially.

"I want to know what Shannon is thinking, so I thought we could trade roomies tonight." She's holding out her room key.

Coach is focused on clearing girls out of Cooper's room and Quinn glances my way before heading in the opposite direction.

"What? Coach would kill us!"

"Coach needs her beauty rest for her Good Morning America interview. She's going straight to bed after this."

As if on cue, Sue yells at the remaining girls. "It's been a long time since Matt Lauer and I were alone together, hurry it up! I need to put curlers in."

I look at the floor briefly before meeting her eyes.

"I don't think Quinn wants us to switch."

Brittany holds my gaze.

"I don't think you know what Quinn wants."

It's an oddly poignant statement in the middle of this haphazard scene of Coach throwing pillows at girls and each of them attempting to flee left and right.

I take my keycard out of my pocket to exchange with her before walking in the direction Quinn was headed.

I turn back suddenly and like the best friend she is, Brittany knows what I'm about to ask. "I'll make sure Shannon doesn't say anything...at least while she's awake."

I laugh and sneak quickly past Coach, who is berating Melissa for her duck pajamas.

Slipping into the room with my eye on Sue, I quickly close the door behind me and press my back into the wood.

Quinn is in the bathroom and shouts out, clearly in the middle of brushing her teeth.

"What were you and Santana talking about?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

She swings out of the well lit room with toothpaste all around her lips, before getting embarrassed and going back in to wipe it away.

"Wha..Coach is going to kill us!"

I find it the least bit cute that she reacted the same way I had.

"She won't know. We'll just switch back in the morning."

Quinn exhales and seems to evaluate her surroundings with a fresh pair of eyes - the messy clothes everywhere, but also the two small beds.

"I guess you're right, umm, ok, that's Britt's bed." She gestures to the left and I hop on it and lay against the pillows with my hands behind my head and my legs crossed at the ankles.

"I still can't believe we won." I muse, staring at the ceiling.

Quinn is finishing up in the bathroom. After splashing her face a few times she shuts off the water and pats her face dry with one of the plush towels before coming back into the room.

I can feel her looking at me, but my eyes remain on the ceiling, even as she starts to talk. "What do you think Coach meant?"

"I don't know. I can't imagine her feeling that way had we lost."

Quinn sits on her bed, tucking a leg under herself and facing me. I flip onto my side to look at her.

"Yeah, but what do you think she meant?" Quinn is searching my eyes.

"Well, if she thinks we love each other, maybe she's glad we didn't back down. You know, that we took the challenge to be together even if we were scared." Quinn just looks at me and I suddenly feel like the only one stepping off a cliff. "Whatever, Becky said she's shooting her up with hormones every morning so she can get pregnant. She's probably just emotional."

"You don't think she's right?" Again with the intense gaze. Outside of telling her that I love…I could love her, there isn't an answer. I resent that she's asking me to say it, when she clearly doesn't feel the same way.

"So, you said you would tell me the secret after Nationals."

She finally looks away and I'm pleased to have dodged a bullet.

"I did." She runs her fingers through her hair, clearly buying time to gather her thoughts. She's so hesitant and I almost feel bad that I brought it up, but I really want to know what she did.

I try to ease her fears when she doesn't seem to know where to start. "It can't be that bad."

"It is."

"Did you tell someone about us?" If this is about the Hobbit knowing that we kissed I might laugh myself off the bed.

"It's not that simple. Santana, when I asked you to have dinner with me, just me, I wanted it to be a date."

I nod. "I gathered that in retrospect."

"And when I told you that I…that I liked you. I wanted you to break up with Brittany."

I can't keep eye contact with her as she admits that she was calculating in her attempt to break us up. It's not entirely surprising; it's what I would have done if I wanted someone, even fleetingly.

I'm starting to feel like I know where this is going – she was experimenting, like I thought, and she just wants to get the guilt off her chest.

There's something tragic to knowing a person has played with your feelings versus just thinking that they have that makes me want to cut this confession short. I'd rather say it; Take all the pity and consideration out of it.

"And now you feel bad because it was an experiment and you didn't mean to hurt my feelings but you think you have and Coach just made it worse by meddling in with all this love talk. It's fine, Quinn. It's fine."

Her face falls at my intrusion.

"Oh, and I know that you told Berry about us – it's why she's been so weird and accommodating. I'm sure she told the whole glee club, which would explain a lot. In any case, the week is over. Cheerios is over. We don't have to be together anymore. And you can stop looking at me like you shot my dog. You tried out girls, you didn't like it, you can steal Finn back for a few weeks and all will be forgotten. And I'll ….whatever, I'll find someone else. One of the Pelicans was definitely staring too lon-"

"What are you doing?" Quinn interrupts me and if I'm not mistaken, she's angry. I sit up so that we are eye to eye.

"Quinn, it's fine. You didn't have to make it all so melodramatic- this deep, dark secret lurking between us." I wiggle my fingers in the air dismissively. "I've been saying it all along, you could have just agreed with me. I have to admit, I was surprised to find out the troll under the bridge was your confidant. You should have seen -"

"Wait, you _talked _to Rachel about this?"

"She was staring like there was a Broadway contract about to fall out from between us after Reunited. Of course I talked to her."

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing. She thinks she's your lady in waiting or something. You really should corral that friendship or she might walk into school with blonde hair and a 50s –"

"Stop it." She cuts me off again and I kick myself for buying into Brittany's belief that a sleepover with Quinn would be anything other than a mess.

"Stop what? Why are you so on edge? We cleared the air, now we can get back to being friends."

A silence follows and Quinn is just staring at her hands. I'm about to offer another round of I-don't-cares, however false, when she finally looks up at me.

"I don't want to be your friend." I look into her eyes and I pray that she can't see my world collapsing. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it off my face though.

I stand and Quinn stares at me confused. I slide the keycard off the night stand and start to walk towards the door, but Quinn grabs my hand.

"Where are you going?"

"Look, Britt thought this would be fun, but clearly it's not. We'll just switch back. We'll switch everything back-"

"Santana, no… I – " I shake my hand from hers violently.

"You what? I'm tired of this roller coaster with you. One second you want to be my girlfriend, then you don't, then I'm an experiment and now what? _We can't be friends?_ Why, Quinn? Because people won't forget that you dated me for one fucking week if we stand too close?"

"No, you misunderstood me! I don't want to be friends because I can't be friends with you. It's more than that for me."

"More? Like what? Like this?" My fingers tear at the hem of my tank top, lifting it above my head roughly before pulling at the drawstring of my pajama pants and pushing them past my hips to pool at my feet. I stand in front of her in nothing more than black panties and a bra heaving in frustration. "You still want to sleep with me, Q? Is that it? Can't go on not knowing if your hypothesis was correct?"

She's staring at me in alarm and amazement, but her pupils are blown in a way that can only be lust. I reach forward and start undoing the buttons on her top.

"Santana, it's not like that….I-"

Her hands rise to stop me, but I lean forward and kiss her, gripping the fabric tighter so she can't move away.

"Don't lie." I speak into her lips, the kiss turning ever more aggressive. Before I know it, I've walked her into the edge of her bed. I peel her top off of her shoulders and pull back to look into her eyes.

I need her to make the next move.

She sits down and I'm sure this is over, that she is about to push me away for good, but as I look out the window behind her, regret stabbing me sharply, Quinn begins to climb backwards to lie against the pillows.

She starts to pull her pajama bottoms off and I lean forward to yank at them myself. Throwing them aside without looking away, I climb on top of her, but hover above her skin.

This is her last chance to back down, but instead I feel hands curve around my hips to bring my body into contact with hers. My upper body falls as her hands glide up my back and when she reaches my shoulders, she pulls me down into another kiss.

This time it's slow. Quinn is in control. Her legs spread and one hand presses my ass into her while the other grips tightly in the hair at the nape of my neck.

Eventually, I crave her skin and I reach behind her and slip the clasp of her bra loose and pull away only long enough to take it from her arms. When my body temperature spikes at the sight of her, I wonder if this is a good idea. Before I have enough time to second guess myself, she's working at my bra clasp, taking a second longer than I did.

Her fingers quickly curl under my panties next and if she lost time with the bra she makes up for it here. I'm not to be outdone and I climb to my knees to pull hers away, before leaning back into her.

My kiss is urgent once more as my hand reaches between her legs, my fingers pressing against her roughly, releasing a moan. Her hand pushes into my shoulder steadily, breaking our kiss, as she seeks out my eyes. My hand stills between us.

I think she's going to say something, but she doesn't, she simply lifts from the bed and kisses me more deliberately, while moving her hand in between my legs to mimic how I am touching her, only softer. Pulling away again, she watches me closely as her fingers barely skim my skin.

Time seems to falter and skip, each touch and kiss a moment, but not necessarily tied to the next. After what feels like hours, Quinn changes the pace again, flipping us unexpectedly.

I laugh a little at the show of dominance, but my smirk is quickly wiped from my face when she pushes into me suddenly, watching me gasp with raw interest. She presses again, but this time captures my moan in a kiss. Soon her thighs are pushing into the back of her hand with increasing speed, her body grinding into mine harshly.

It isn't much longer before my body clenches around her and I gasp for air. I almost can't feel her kissing me as I come down from the high. She's placing soft kisses along my neck, my jaw, my hairline and when I finally feel like I'm back on earth, her lips meet mine. She cups my jaw tenderly and I feel a surge of emotion that in this state of vulnerability I can finally admit is love. I love her.

This isn't how I thought things would go tonight. Not at all.

I intensify the kiss and flip us once more. She seems about to protest but when my lips wrap around a hardened nipple just as quickly, her voice sinks into the deep edge of a breath.

I keep moving down until my lips meet the soft skin of her inner thigh. She arches her back as my tongue drags along her center and it's hard not to look up and be in awe.

I can't keep thinking like that though. Not when I know what this is.

My nails dig into her thighs and she clenches at the bed sheets with a gasp.

I can't help hoping that this night will creep up on her when she's married and beneath her husband, that the way I'm making her feel will be like a brand on her heart and that my name might just slip from her lips twenty years from now when she least expects it.

I know it's wrong, but isn't that all you can want when the person you love doesn't love you? That somehow, someday, they'll regret it. Even if you never know it.

My fingernails sink into her skin possessively once more. She hisses in pain, but lifts her body into me simultaneously and I can feel how close she is as I press her hips back down.

"You'll always be mine, Quinn." I'm not sure why I have to say it aloud, if only to myself. Maybe to placate my silly heart that will surely be in a thousand pieces come sunrise.

When she exhales my name shakily moments later, her body rising beyond the strength of my arms to hold her down, I know without a doubt that her voice will haunt me well beyond what little regret I could ever wish upon her.

I move up her body and she pulls me into another kiss. I let her. When we break apart finally, I move to her side and face away. She wraps herself around my back and if I could move away I would, but this bed is too small.

It's over now.


End file.
